Leaders
by SuperChocolate
Summary: A terminator, John Connor, and Sarah Connor come for a surprisingly important 14-year-old girl named Paige Anderson, and her life is changed forever.
1. Chapter 1-An Average School Day

**[ A/N: This, to me, is a spin on the regular T2 AU fanfics. Plus, this is almost a fantasy of mine. Please enjoy, read, and rate my very first fanfic! And thanks to the writers of other Terminator fanfics for bringing me inspiration.**

**Note: For now, I am not finished with this story, so each chapter is subject to change. If you thoroughly enjoyed a part of the story and want it to stay, say so.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own, aside from Paige Anderson, any of the characters or anything else from the **_**Terminator **_**series.****]**

Foreword:

I, Paige Anderson, was fourteen when I met John Connor, but in a sense I already knew him. In fact, I kind of had a bit of a crush on him. Then, on an average school day, my life was changed forever.

...

(John's perspective)

It had been quite a while since John and Sarah escaped the last T-1000. Contrary to popular belief, he learned, that event happened not in 1994, but in 2014. He was thirteen when it happened, not ten. He and Sarah were told about this by the T-800 when it arrived, about the movies and why they were made.

They had been living at the Salceda's with Enrique and his family, trying to hide from the cops. They managed to get out of the steel mill without being caught, but they were, for the moment, L.A.'s most wanted. Once everything cooled down, Sarah was able to use her connections to get a small house near the Salceda's. It even had an underground bunker. They had new identities and continued to lay low.

John had been thinking, after they escaped, about whether or not they had _really _prevented Judgment Day. Cyberdyne wouldn't give up so easily, not in a million years. And Miles Dyson couldn't have been the only person responsible. Someone else had to have known about his work. John also remembered the arm, the T-800's arm. They destroyed the one they took from Cyberdyne, but the one the T-800 had lost when fighting the T-1000 was left behind. Someone could find it, someone else from Cyberdyne.

He told Sarah about his thoughts, and she didn't seem surprised. She was never easily convinced that things were fine. She'd probably thought of the problems before he did.

Their suspicions were finally confirmed, however, about a year after their escape. John caught a glimpse of a T-800 in a car from inside the house, and informed Sarah. She told him to stay inside, and went out, gun in hand. It came out, also holding a gun. "What is your mission?" she shouted at it, her gun not moving off of it.

"My mission is to protect John Connor," it replied in its familiar monotone voice. Sarah lowered her gun after a moment. "My secondary mission is to protect Paige Anderson."

_Wait,_ John thought, _what did he just say? _He came outside.

"We must go," it said. "We have to reach Paige Anderson before the T-1000 finds her."

"Shit, another one?" John asked, forgetting about his previous question. "How're we gonna kill it this time?"

"There is a weapon we can use to terminate it, but I was not able to bring the device with me. We will have to create it ourselves."

"Okay," Sarah said, "Let's go." She was obviously dreading this. They had just escaped the T-1000, and now there was another one after them. Not only that, but they were now sure of the fact that they had not prevented Judgment Day.

They got in the car, the terminator sitting in the driver's seat, Sarah in the passenger's, and John in the back. They drove, most of them unaware of their destination.

...

(Paige's perspective)

"You really need to chill out," my best friend, Rachel, said to me. We were standing by my locker. I had just done the worst thing I had ever done in my life: I punched someone in the face. It wasn't _that _bad, but to someone who had lived fourteen years of her life without even being in detention, it was pretty bad. In my school they expelled kids for this stuff.

"I punched someone, Rachel! In the face!" I said to her, circling my face in the air with my finger. I probably did need to chill out, but at the time it didn't occur to my goody-goody brain to even try that.

"So what?" she replied. She was acting like it was something she did every day, like it wasn't a big deal. And maybe it wasn't.

"So what? So I could be expelled, that's what!" She was always more of a rule-breaker type of person than I was. She tried to pull me into every crazy thing she was doing. Graffiti, stealing, whatever it was, I always chickened out when the time came, but she would always chicken out with me. Maybe that was why we were such good friends. We evened each other out. And at the end of the day we could always enjoy watching a movie together instead of, say, making a stink bomb and setting it off in the principal's office. _The_ _Terminator _and _Terminator 2: Judgment Day _were always favorites of ours.

"They won't expel you," she continued. "Nobody knows."

"The girl I punched knows."

"But she's an asshole and is probably in trouble herself. She won't tell anyone."

"But she would do something."

"Well..." Rachel looked away. _This can't be good,_ I thought.

"What?" I asked her.

She looked at me and decided to be blunt. "She'll probably want revenge. An eye for an eye."

"Fuck."

What happened was this: a girl, who was indeed an asshole, was being an asshole to me. Her name was Jess. She was mean to everyone, but to me especially. Earlier that day, when I was walking to one of my classes, she walked past me with her gang of other assholes and knocked her shoulder into mine, making me drop all of my stuff. Angry and scrambling to pick up my things, I said, "Hey, watch it, jerk."

She turned, smiling, and replied, "Gladly." Then she kicked my things across the hallway, watching my papers scatter all over the floor.

I stood up, rage building inside me, and said, "I'm getting real tired of your shit."

"So the good girl wants to fight now? Cry me a river." She made a fake sad face, then laughed. She had a horrible laugh: nasally, loud, and coming with a snort every once in a while.

I smiled, my right hand curling into a fist. "Gladly," I said, mocking her words. Then I punched her square in the jaw.

There wasn't blood, or bruising, or anything visible. But I was stronger than I looked, and my punch hurt. She simply rubbed her jaw, gave me an evil look, and walked away in a huff, her "friends" following her. And that was why I was freaking out.

"It doesn't matter," Rachel continued. "She knows you pack a punch. Literally." We laughed. "And it probably felt good."

"It did feel pretty damn good," I said. I decided to let it go for now.

The rest of the day went on and I didn't even see Jess the entire time. Until school let out.

I just said goodbye to Rachel and made my way, yellow backpack on my shoulders, to the library. I usually stay after school and go to the library, because my parents are always late when coming to pick me up. So, while everyone else was heading to the buses, I was heading in the opposite direction to the stairs. No one was in the hallway.

Turning one corner and then the next, out of everyone's sight, I stopped. Jess and her gang were standing by the wall, waiting for me. I tried to walk by without them noticing, but it didn't work. Jess grabbed me by the arm, then shoved my back into a locker. She grinned. Her buddies were behind her, some looking out and some watching the show. I stared at her, waiting to see what she would do, fear clearly in my eyes.

I held my hands up by my face to try to protect it, so she didn't go for my face. She punched me, hard, in the stomach. I doubled over, putting my arms around my torso. Now that my face was free, she punched me again in the face, hard enough to knock me out cold. I collapsed on the floor of the hallway. Before I was completely unconscious, I felt her kick me in my side. I was strong, but she was much stronger.

...

(John's perspective)

John asked the terminator many questions while they were in the car. "So," he began, "I guess I have to teach you everything again. Can you learn yet?"

"No," the terminator stated.

"Damn," John said. "Alright, then what about this Paige chick? Who's she?"

"She is necessary in the future," it stated vaguely. It was almost like he was avoiding the question.

"But why?" John asked.

"In the future, Paige Anderson will become your second-in-command and then, your wife."

He paused, letting that sink in. He just found out who he was going to marry, and he didn't even know her. But he was about to, which wasn't much better. "You're shitting me," he finally said.

"No," it replied, even though there was no need to. John glanced over at his mom. She was looking out the window, silent. She probably didn't like hearing about John's future wife, but her main reason for silence was most likely just Judgment Day in general. She probably felt like it couldn't be stopped. John felt the same way.

They suddenly parked in a driveway, and the terminator got out, instructing John to stay put. He watched out the window as he went up to the door and knocked. A tall, kind-looking man opened the door. They talked, and the man pointed in some direction, giving the terminator instructions. They talked more, and the man called to someone inside. He reached behind him, out of John's view, then held out a picture. It was too far away for John to see, but the terminator seemed to memorize it and said goodbye to the man. He shut the door. The terminator walked back to the car and got inside, saying nothing. They drove on.

They arrived at a school, and pulled into the parking lot. The terminator got out, and John wanted to come too, so he followed. Sarah didn't object. They went to an entrance on the side of the building, and the terminator smashed the handle on the locked door, breaking inside. They went in and down a flight of stairs, then round the corner to find a group of girls huddled in a group. There was something they were staring at. "That is her," the terminator said.

"Where?" John asked. There were too many people.

"On the floor." John looked and, upon further inspection, found that it was a girl lying on the floor that the group was staring at. They were laughing. One of them kicked her.

"Hey, douche-bags!" John shouted at them. They turned around, satisfied with themselves in one moment but afraid in the next when they saw the large man holding a gun. "Get lost!" he yelled. They turned around and all ran, not looking back. They were probably going to tell someone about the man with a gun in their school, so they had to act fast. "Help me," John told the terminator, and they went over to the girl, kneeling down. John shook her, trying to get her to wake up. It didn't work. She was out cold, and kind of looked like she had been punched in the face.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I woke, slowly, face-down on the floor. Someone was shaking my shoulder and saying something to me. I pushed myself up and turned, opening my eyes. I saw _John fucking Connor _kneeling next to me and next to him, what could only be _a terminator_. I jumped up and scooted backwards. Either I was going nuts, or Jess punched me harder than I thought. I continued to scoot away until I was able to stand up, and then I tried to run in the opposite direction. The terminator grabbed me by the back of my jacket and I screamed, trying to escape his grip. Of course, I couldn't, and as I was whirled around I shut my eyes. I stopped screaming.

"It's fine," John said to me. "We're here to protect you." I opened my eyes.

"You're..." I said, completely shocked. "You're... not real. Jesus, I'm losing my mind." I had seen them before, only in movies from the 80's and 90's. It was all so confusing.

"Listen, you're not losing your mind and we gotta book it, so can you freak out in the car?" John said. I stood still, unable to move.

"Come with us if you want to live," the terminator said. That had to have been on purpose. I nodded slowly and, my mind completely jumbled, was finally able to walk out the door with them.

...


	2. Chapter 2-Questions, Questions

...

(Paige's perspective)

Many questions were racing through my mind, but I knew I probably shouldn't ask yet. I was so confused. I thought I was going crazy. I wanted to scream, cry, stomp my feet, run. But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. So I followed John the terminator to the parking lot of my school, where a car was waiting.

The terminator got into the driver's seat, and John and I sat in the back. In the passenger's seat sat Sarah Connor, silent. I didn't understand any of this. How could they be here, when they weren't even real? How could they be here, fictional characters in a fictional world? And why was I sitting next to them? "I'm John, by the way," John said. "And that's Sarah, and that's T. But I guess you already knew that." He smiled, but didn't get a reply. I had too many questions.

The car quickly pulled out of the parking lot. Now that we were inside and moving, I started asking my many questions. "What's going on?" seemed like a good way to start.

The terminator was the one to reply. "There is a killing machine called the T-1000 after you and John. You are here to be protected."

Chills rushed down my spine. I had seen– at least, on a screen– the T-1000. It was one of the scariest things you could ever face, but it never scared me because I thought it wasn't real.

I still had more questions. "I can guess why I'm here, but why are you here?" I asked.

"You wanna tell her, T?" John asked the terminator. And so he did.

...

My head was spinning. I couldn't believe what he just told me, but I guess I had to because of the living proof sitting in the car with me. "So you're telling me," I said, "that Skynet basically sent back terminators to create and act in the movies? Why would they do that?"

"So it would be more believable," John said. "If people thought Skynet wasn't real, they wouldn't believe anyone who showed them the proof. And if they did it early enough–"

"Then no one would expect the war," I interrupted. Then I thought of something else. "So did all that stuff in the movies really happen? Is Cyberdyne real?"

"Yes," the terminator said. "Cyberdyne was already created when the movies were released. There would be less suspicion that way."

Then I thought: would we need to be hidden? If other people recognized them, they would be asking a lot of questions. "Did anyone else see you guys?" I asked.

"Yeah," John said, "why?"

"I just thought– I mean, wouldn't they recognize you, and get suspicious?"

"No," replied the terminator. "Skynet knew that we would come in the future, so they changed the appearance of the films."

"But the Resistance knew that they would need people from the past to believe us," John said, "so someone was able to change it back. But it only looks that way to certain people."

"I guess technology will really advance, as far as movies go," I said. "But let me get this straight– I can see the terminators for what they really look like, which looks like you guys, but everyone else sees them differently?"

"Correct," the terminator stated.

"One last thing," I said. "Why is that thing after me? Why do I need to be protected?"

"Eventually," the terminator began, "you will become the Resistance's second-in-command, and–"

"Wait," John interrupted, "I don't think you wanna hear that part."

"Why? What is it?" I asked, now curious. His face was turning red.

"Just trust me."

"Okay, I guess," I said, figuring he wasn't gonna budge any time soon. But why was he blushing so much? _I'll just ask later_, I thought.

"So," I said, trying to shake my curiosity off, "where are we going?"

And for the first time, Sarah spoke to me. "Mexico," she said. This was gonna be a long car ride.

...

(John's perspective)

_That was close_, John thought. It would've gotten pretty weird if she had heard the last half of the terminator's sentence.

When she woke up and finally calmed down, John had to cut her freak-out short. They didn't want to face the police or worse, the T-1000. So they went out to the car. Once inside, John introduced himself and everyone else in the car. Which, he quickly realized, was not necessary considering she already knew all of their names. "I'm John, by the way," he had said, and he added _I'm your future husband, nice to meet you_, in his head. She replied by asking what was going on, and he figured that she must have been in shock. It was probably going to be pretty hard to hear that the movies and life you've been living in is a lie, and that you were destined to be in a future with nuclear war, fallout, and people-killing robots. She took it pretty well.

Then she just had to ask about her future. _Oh shit,_ John thought, _this might get awkward._ Thankfully, he was able to stop the terminator from spilling _all_ the beans. If only he could get his face to stop being red.

When his face was back to a normal color, he thought about Paige. He didn't want to think about the whole _I know who I'm going to marry and she's sitting right next to me_ thing, so he thought about her being his future second-in-command instead. He glanced at her for a second. She was staring at the window, thankfully unaware of him looking at her. _Does this chick even know how to shoot a gun?_ he thought to himself. _I can't believe she's going to be my second-in-command._

_..._

**[A/N: Hope you liked that chapter! And remember: read and review.]**


	3. Chapter 3-Phones

...

(Paige's perspective)

After a little while, I noticed that John fell asleep. I quickly followed suit, but not for long. My mind was to preoccupied to sleep. Eventually we stopped at a gas station, and my bladder was grateful. When I started to make my way towards the bathroom, I heard "Where do you think you're going?" from Sarah.

I turned around, slightly peeved, and said, "I'm a human. Humans pee." I heard John laugh a little bit, but Sarah didn't seem to notice. I turned myself back to the direction of the bathrooms and kept walking.

When I came back out to the car, I saw the terminator filling up the tank, John in the back, and Sarah sitting on the hood. She glared at me. "What's in your bag?" she questioned, and I could picture her shining a lamp in my eyes as she did.

"Nothing, just some papers, books, and my cellphone," I said honestly.

"Get rid of it," she said to me.

"Of what?" I asked.

"The cellphone. It could be used to track us down. Take the battery out and dump it all in the trash over there," she instructed, pointing to a large trashcan.

"Fine," I said, followed by a "jeez, paranoid much?" under my breath. I stuck my head in the car and rifled through my backpack for my cellphone.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" John asked me suddenly. I almost forgot he was there.

"Just my cellphone," I replied, "Sarah says I have to dump it 'cause the T-1000 could find us with it, or something."

"Oh. Well, there's always payphones. And you won't need a quarter, I can tell you that much," he said, gesturing to the terminator and smiling at me. I smiled back, I think for the first time since all of this happened to me.

"Yeah, I guess I'll need Lugnuts to help me out with that one." Thinking about payphones reminded me of that scene, the one where John calls his foster parents and discovers that they're dead. I haven't talked to my parents. They could be in danger, or worse, they could be dead. I had to talk to them. What if I never got to talk to them ever again? I was leaving them, for my safety, and I couldn't let them die. At least not without a goodbye. John seemed to notice my expression change so quickly.

"I have to call my parents," I explained, and I tried to get out of the car.

"Wait," John said, and I stopped.

"I can't," I replied. "What if they're in danger? What if they die? What if I don't say goodbye? What if–"

"Hey, we can go call them. Just not on your phone. There's a payphone right over there. I'll go get Lugnuts, you go throw your phone away," he said. I nodded, got out of the car, and went towards the trashcan.

I said a silent and slightly ceremonious goodbye to my phone, standing before the trashcan. Then, I pulled the back off of my cheap old flip phone, took out the battery, and tossed everything into the trash. _That settles that,_ I thought.

"Lugnuts" and John came to the payphone with me. Lugnuts did the same punch to the payphone as in the movies, and I got my quarter. I smiled, remembering the scene. But the more I remembered, specifically about the death of John's foster parents, the less I smiled. I put the quarter in, but I hesitated. "Wait," I said, "if my parents are dead and the T-1000 is there, how would I know the difference? They're probably wondering where I am anyways."

"Do you have anyone else living in the house?" the terminator asked me.

"Yeah, just my older brother. Why?"

"What is his name?"

"Oh, I get it. It's James." Once I understood, I dialed the number and handed the phone to the terminator. My dad answered.

"Hello?" he said. All I wanted to do was say hi, but the terminator said it for me.

"Hey dad," the terminator said in a flawless imitation of my voice.

"Don't worry, you get kinda used to it," John whispered to me.

You could hear exactly what he was saying on the other end. "Where have you been? I waited at the school for over and hour. Where are you? Did something happen?" Even when he was worried sick, he was still kind of laid back.

"Everything's fine. How's Mark?" the terminator asked. I waited for the answer that would tell me my parents' fate.

"Who the hell is Mark? Where are you?" he said, getting angrier. I was so relieved.

I took the phone from the terminator and said,"Dad, I need you to do something for me. Fast."

"What is it? Are you in trouble?"

"Turn on the speakerphone and get mom and James, okay?"

"Okay," he said. He got them, and I could hear my mom first.

"Sweetie? What's going on? Are you hurt?" she said.

"Paige, what happened?" my brother said. It was such a relief to hear all of their voices.

"I need you to trust me on something. I need you to be safe, even if you don't believe me. I'm safe, but you all are in danger. There is... something after you. It's not human, and it wants to get to me through you. I know you won't believe me, but as proof–" I handed the phone to the terminator. "Say something, tell them what you are," I said.

"I am a terminator, a T-800, Cyberdyne Systems model 101. My mission is to protect John Connor and Paige Anderson," the terminator said into the phone. I took back the phone. T went off to go watch out for anything, perhaps to give me privacy.

"There. Please, just gather all of the canned food and go hide somewhere. Don't take anything electronic, only one cell phone. And take the battery out when you're not using it. Take passports. And go quickly, and far away, for at least a few weeks," I told them. They seemed to be talking to each other.

"Okay, Paige," my dad said, "we'll believe you. We'll use my phone, in case you need to talk to us again. But if this is some sort of prank–"

"It's not, I promise. Dad, Mom, James, I love you. I will always love you. And I promise that I will see you again soon. But for now, I have to leave. I love you all. Goodbye," I said, tears welling up in my eyes.

"We love you too," my mom said.

"Always," said my brother.

Then something unexpected happened. I heard a loud thump from somewhere else in the house, and my mom shouted. Then someone hung up the phone.

"Something's wrong," I said, speaking quickly in my panic. I said nothing more, just got another quarter and called again.

"Hello?" came my mother's voice.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Your dinner's getting cold, honey. Where are you?" I hung up the phone as quickly as I could.

I slowly sank down to the floor of the phone booth, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I put my hand over my mouth, completely shocked. My entire family was just murdered by the T-1000. I couldn't take it. I just wanted it all to end, to wake up and discover that it was just one long, horrifyingly realistic dream. I didn't want to cry, not in front of John, so I held back my tears as best as I could.

...

(John's perspective)

John looked at Paige. She'd gone through so much in one day: she got beat up, was taken away from her home, had the future as she knew it altered, and now her family was dead. He felt horrible.

So he sat down next to her. She was covering her mouth with her hand, and looked very shocked. After a few moments, she looked like she was going to cry. But she didn't. She sat on the verge of tears for a bit before John realized the issue.

"It's okay to cry," John said to her. "I've done it before. Hell, you've probably seen it."

So she did. She let the tears come, even if she hid her face from him.

"They can't be dead," she said. "Fuck, they can't be... I want my family back." She cried more. Then, much quieter, she said, "They're gone. I have no one."

"You have me," he said after a moment, almost regretting it. He knew how it felt to have people taken from him, when Sarah was in Pescadaro, but he got her back. She would never get her family back. And yet, it was a kind of weird thing to say to someone he just met. But if she was going to be his wife, they might as well be friendly. Hell, she was practically his friend already. _What, do we need to spit-shake on it?_ he silently told himself. She was silent, and still sobbing. So he put an arm around her shoulders.

Slightly hesitant, she scooted closer to him. Her cheeks were wet with tears. Even if it was a sad moment, he smiled faintly. _This is kinda nice,_ he thought. And they stared at the horizon together, if only for a short time.

...

**[A/N: Woo hoo! Getting into their ~friendship~ now, aren't we? But still, so sad. Stay tuned!]**


	4. Chapter 4-I Spy

...

(Paige's perspective)

I felt less alone, knowing that John was there for me. It was kinda nice to sit there with him in silence. Unfortunately, it didn't last very long. I knew we had to keep moving, so after I finished crying and composed myself I stood up.

I walked, slightly ahead of John, back to the car. We slid into the backseat. The terminator was sitting in the driver's seat, waiting, and Sarah was just now coming back to the car. _I guess your bladder wasn't treating you well either,_ I thought, _but at least I didn't question you._ And off we went.

After about another two hours or so, I got bored. Very, very bored. The silence and dull atmosphere was just about to kill me. So I played "I spy".

"I spy with my little eye..." I said, "something... blue."

"The sky?" John guessed, smirking.

"Dammit," I said, "you got me. Your turn."

"Exactly how bored are you?"

"Ah ah ah," I said, wagging my finger disapprovingly, "you gotta say 'I spy'."

"Fine," he said, "I spy with my little eye... something bored."

"Okay, okay, I get it. _Somebody_ doesn't like 'I spy'." I smiled.

A blink of an eye later, Sarah told us something was coming. I turned and saw the T-1000 driving towards us, getting faster and faster. It had probably tracked us down and caught up with us, somehow. The terminator told Sarah to drive, and turned around and shot at it with his shotgun. It wasn't phased. My heart started beating faster and faster. This was terrifying; I didn't know how they got through it. Especially Sarah. She seemed to be immune to it, or at least wouldn't show any hints of anything otherwise. The terminator turned around and kept driving. Sarah took a turn, and once again nothing happened. She told John to reload her gun and he did it with surprising ease. Then the terminator took another shot, and managed to hit the T-1000's tire. It swerved onto the side of the road.

I thought it was over, but then I saw that it was following on foot. I shouted, "Go faster!" That thing was a lot faster than I expected.

"We're going as fast as we can," Sarah said.

"Shit," I said. It was catching up.

"Look out!" John shouted, and he grabbed my arm and pulled me to the floor of the car with him. The T-1000 had formed his hands into weird, hook-like things and smashed the windshield. Glass fell onto the seat. Thankfully, it couldn't quite reach us. The terminator shot at the T-1000 and hit it square in the face, and it tumbled off of the car as we sped away from it. It was almost exactly like a chase scene from the second movie. It was scary as hell to have actually gone through it.

Once I thought we were safe enough, I cleared the glass off of my seat and got back in it. "Is everyone alright?" Sarah asked.

John looked at me, I nodded, and then he said, "Yeah, we're fine, mom." She glanced back just to make sure.

My heart was still pounding. I was grasping my knees with my hands, trying not to let the fear get to me more than it already had. I breathed deeply to calm myself down.

"You okay?" John asked me.

"Yeah, um," I said, pausing to take another deep breath, "it just scared me, you know? I've never really been in _actual_ danger before." I smiled weakly.

"I get it. You get more used to it the more you go through it, I guess."

"That makes sense," I said. I didn't want to look at anyone, especially John. I felt so weak, so afraid, so useless, while everyone else was so brave. They all could handle themselves, they all brought something to the table. But I was just sitting there, trying not to freak out too much.

It was dark now, and we were all (excluding the terminator, of course) getting pretty tired. So we pulled over to some abandoned garage, kind of like the one in the movie, and moved the car inside.

I got out of the car and stretched my legs. "Boy, it sure feels good to stand up again," I said.

Seeing this place reminded me about when they opened the terminators CPU and made him able to learn. I went up to the terminator.

"So... shouldn't you be able to learn again? Would we have to change the CPU?"

"Yes," he stated.

"I'll get the tools," Sarah sighed.

...

(Paige's perspective)

The procedure was repeated, same as before. Except this time Sarah didn't try to smash the terminator's brain to bits in the middle of it.

Once that was finished, John said, "Man, I guess I gotta start teaching you everything again now, huh? Whatever, I'll start tomorrow. I'm beat."

"Me too. It's been a long day," I said.

"No kidding," John said, smiling slightly. Sarah was over on the far side of the garage, smoking. The terminator stood at a window, watching. Everything kept repeating itself, but I guess that can happen when the best place you have to hide and rest while running from a T-1000 is a garage. John made his way towards the car, and lied down on the seat. "Wait," he said as he sat back up, "do you want the seat? I guess you're not used to sleeping on the floor, so I can sleep there."

"It's fine," I said, "really. I've slept on a floor before. Not that bad, actually." I said, smirking.

"Have it your way," he said, and he lied back down. I crawled onto the floor and tried to get as comfortable as possible. But I couldn't actually sleep. I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the day. I played it over again in my head. A lot of it made my heart beat, either out of fear or excitement. When I remembered calling my parents, tears sprang into my eyes again. I decided to get some fresh air.

I slowly got up, trying not to wake the now sleeping John. I walked past Sarah, who fell asleep sitting up. Then I opened the door as quietly as possible, and successfully sneaked outside without waking anyone.

I left the door cracked and sat down on the ground, hugging my knees. I took in a shaky breath and tried not to cry. I didn't want to cry again. Everything was getting to me: the sudden, dramatic changes, the scary future, the loss. I wanted it all to end. Eventually I just sat there, staring off into space, breathing deeply, and trying not to think about anything.

At some point John came outside with me. I looked up and saw him, then silently returned to staring off into space. I tried to pretend like he wasn't there, or more like I wasn't there, like none of it was real. But I don't have the best imagination, so that didn't work very well. John down sat next to me.

"What're you doing out here?" he asked. I sighed.

"I can't sleep," I replied, still not looking at him. I saw him nod in my peripheral vision.

"Something bothering you?" he asked. "I mean, besides..."

"No... I mean, _yes_, but... I don't know. It's just all so weird to me, all of this."

"I get it," he said. There was silence for a while, and I started shivering, despite already wearing my jacket.

John seemed to notice. "Listen," he said, "it's cold and late. You should come inside."

"Can I just stay out here for, like, five more minutes? I like the fresh air."

"Well, I can't stop you," he said, raising his hands in the air. And though I was expecting him to go, he stayed outside.

"You don't have to stay out here, you know," I said after a moment.

"I know."

"Alright then." I shrugged. The wind blew, and my teeth started chattering.

"Okay, I know this sounds stupid, but do you wanna borrow my jacket?"

"Um, sure," I said, feeling slightly awkward but still cold. He took off his jacket and handed it to me, and I slipped it on. "Thanks."

"No problemo," he said, making me laugh. We sat there, staring off into space, for a few more minutes. Then I stood up and went back inside. John followed.

Quietly, we went back to the car and lied back down. I was still wearing John's jacket. "Oh yeah," I said, "do you want this back?"

"Nah, just give it back to me in the morning."

"Cool." I smiled and shut my eyes. It didn't take much for me to fall asleep this time. But then I had a dream.

I dreamed about John. It was kinda weird. We were in my school, but he was a student there. And we were walking in the hallway to my next class. And we were holding hands. Not much else happened for a while, we just walked, hand in hand, to my locker. But once we got there, and he was about to leave, he leaned over and _kissed _me. Butterflies filled my stomach. In my strange dream-mind, we were boyfriend and girlfriend.

I woke up and felt something on my head. I looked up and saw that John's arm had fallen off of the seat and, while he was still asleep, his hand was playing with my hair. I smiled and enjoyed it for a moment. Then, trying not to wake him, I scooted out of the car. I took off his jacket, laid it by his feet, and made my way to a bathroom, contemplating the crazy dream I had.

...

(John's perspective)

John woke up and saw that Paige was not in the car. He sat up and glanced at his watch. _Damn,_ he thought, _it's only 5:30._ So he went to talk to the terminator, figuring Paige was in the bathroom.

"Hey," John said. The terminator turned to him. "So, do you know more about Paige?"

"I do," he replied.

"Tell me more about her," John said. He was curious about her, in general. He thought it would be too weird to ask her himself.

"Paige Anderson was born in Los Angeles, California. She was born on March tenth in the year 2000 to Samuel Anderson and Lauren Jones, following her brother by approximately three years. Her father was an accountant at a office supply company, and her mother was in the United States military."

"Wait," John said, "her mom was in the military? Cool." Then he heard someone coming, and didn't want them to hear their conversation. So he went back to the car, telling the terminator, "That's good enough, thanks."

Paige was the one approaching, and got to the car before he did. When he went inside, she said, "Where'd you go?"

"Just to talk to the terminator," he said.

"About what?"

"Nothing much, just... teaching him high fives again." He lied, not wanting Paige to know that he was asking about her. "I'll be right back, gotta... take a leak," he said to avoid further questioning, leaving the car for the bathroom. He hoped she wouldn't figure out what he was hiding.

...


	5. Chapter 5-Food

...

(John's perspective)

A minute or so later, he came back to the car and found Paige lying back and staring at the ceiling. "Whatcha doing?" he asked, hopefully switching the subject.

"Just thinking," she said. "Actually... I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how I didn't want to hear the last part of what the terminator was saying." She sat up, and he sat next to her. "I can't figure out what it might be, and it's been killing me. Please, tell me what it is." Not what he was expecting or hoping for. He was hoping she'd forget about that. But he figured she'd have to find out sooner or later.

He took a deep breath. "Well, you, uh," he began, "you're... jeez, this is hard. You're sorta... my wife in the future." It almost stung to say those words, it felt so awkward. Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment. She seemed lost in thought.

Then she said, "oh," and it was silent again. Her face became red, and she looked away. _Dammit,_ he thought,_ I weirded her out. This is just great._ They sat in the awkward silence for a while, trying not to look directly at each other.

She must've been trying to think about something else, because suddenly she said, "I want to learn how to shoot a gun."

"Oh," John said, glad the subject changed. "Well, sure. We can start when we get there, or sooner."

"Cool," she said. "I'm, um, gonna go talk to the terminator."

_I shouldn't have told her,_ John thought._ Now she can't even look at me. This is just amazing._ But, what's done was done, and he couldn't go back now.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and ran my fingers through my hair, thinking about the dream. It was kinda weird, having John hold my hand and kiss me. But I kind of... liked it. More than I thought I would. Butterflies had filled my stomach, and every time I thought about the dream I smiled.

I exited the bathroom and heard John and the terminator talking, but I couldn't make out what it was. I sat down in the back of the car, and John joined me shortly afterwards. I asked him what they were talking about, and he hesitated, saying it was only him reteaching the terminator high fives. He left before I could question further. It made him seem like he was hiding something.

So when John left, I thought about what the terminator had said. I thought and thought about what it could be, and I still didn't come to... _that_ conclusion. Not even close. But at least I knew why he was blushing so hard.

I was going to be John's wife. Not anytime soon, of course, but still. And I cried in front of him! But... he comforted me. He said that I had him, when I thought I had no one else. Was it because he knew? And why did he hide it for so long? I guess he was embarrassed.

When he told me, I didn't dare to look at him. Sure, it might have told me how he felt about the whole thing, but then he might have figured out how I felt. But how did I feel about it, exactly? My mind was racing.

I had, and still have, kind of a crush on him. He's cute, and funny, and nice, and makes me feel butterflies in my stomach when he smiles at me. But I don't know if I love him, and more importantly, I don't know if he loves me.

I looked back at him. He looked almost angry, but I knew he wasn't angry at me. Maybe he was angry at himself. I shouldn't have pushed him so hard to tell me. Maybe it was best that I didn't know, at least for a while. _Why am I so stupid?_ I thought._ I let curiosity take over, and now he can't even look at me without feeling bad. This is just amazing._

I walked towards the terminator, who was still watching the window. I looked around to make sure no one could hear anything. He looked at me. I decided to be direct. After all, who needs to beat around the bush when you're talking to an emotionless robot? "John told me that I'll be his wife in the future," I said, letting those words sink in. "Is that true?"

"Yes," the terminator said.

"When?"

"After you become his second-in-command, eleven years from now, in the year 2026."

"Damn, I'll only be 25 then."

"Correct," said the terminator.

"Okay," I said, "I don't wanna know any more. I've learned enough for one day," I said. He turned back to watching the window.

I, too, looked out the window for a while. _Everything's gonna be fine,_ I told myself. Before long, the terminator made its way towards the car, instructing me to follow.

John and Sarah were already waiting in the car. The terminator and I hopped in. The car rolled out of the garage and we hit the road once more.

...

As we drove, my mind began to wander. I thought about where I would be right now if I weren't in this situation. I would probably still be in bed. But after that, instead of heading to Mexico, I would head to school. Which reminded me: what was everyone back at home going to think?

Today, my friends and teachers would think I was sick, but what about after a few days, or a week, or a month? And with my whole family gone, and no one informed of where we were went or that we left at all, people will be asking questions. People might come looking for us; we might be in the news. And what about the rest of my family? They would want to know where their loved ones went, but they would never get answers. I felt horrible, and there was nothing I could do.

So I put it out of my mind. It was perfect timing, too, because all of a sudden we pulled over at a gas station with an old fast-food joint next to it. I quickly realized just how hungry I was. I heard John's stomach growl. "I'm starving," he said.

"Ditto," I said. He smiled at me. It seemed like he was happy that the awkwardness between us had, for the most part, faded.

We parked the car and got out. This time, Sarah already had cash on her. It seemed like they were all slightly more prepared for running away now then they were before. Sarah gave John some money, and we went up to the fast-food place, the terminator following. Sarah went over to get some more gas into the car.

John began to reteach the terminator old tricks, even if he wasn't technically the same terminator. He taught him "No problemo," "Eat me," "Later, dickwad," "Chill out," and my personal favorite, "Hasta la vista, baby." It was even more hilarious in real life to hear the terminator repeat everything that John was saying. Then, he retaught him to smile. He went up to the person at the counter, this time being a mopey college-kid instead of an older woman, and said something along the lines of, "Hi, how's your day going?"

He replied with, "Are you gonna order something or are you wasting my time?" I laughed. Then John turned around and used the smile that followed my laugh as an example.

"Look, there. She's smiling, perfect example." I held my smile long enough for the terminator to process it, and batted my eyelashes for dramatic effect. He tried to copy it, but it still looked as creepy as before.

"Sorry, big guy," I said, "I guess practice makes perfect."

"Yeah, you go work on that while we get something to eat." John said. The terminator stopped smiling and turned, putting his protector persona back on.

"That was hilarious," I said as we went back towards the counter, "and much more fun when you participate, for sure."

"I know. Never gets old," he said. He looked at the menu. "I'll have... a cheeseburger and fries," he told the guy from before.

"I'll have the same, I guess," I told him.

"Oh, and one more for my mom," John said.

As we waited for our food, we turned and looked around. But we were kind of in the middle of nowhere, so there wasn't much to look at. We didn't talk for a little while, we were too busy basking in the silence. It was almost peaceful. I looked over at John. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. His smile, his mesmerizing green eyes, the fact that he was a good one or two inches taller than me, and maybe the fact that I was really hungry was making me slightly lightheaded. I blushed a little, realizing I probably looked like a baboon, and looked away.

"What's wrong?" he asked me.

"Nothing," I said, trying to shake it off. "Just kinda tired. I didn't sleep very well last night." _Snap out of it,_ I told myself.

"Ah," he said, and he faintly smiled. Our food arrived and we started walking back towards the car. "I told you I would've taken the floor."

"It wasn't the floor," I said, smiling. "There's just a lot on my mind."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Someone's nosy today," I said, smirking. "But nothing much. About stuff at home, mostly." He nodded. "And about what you said you were doing earlier, teaching the terminator high fives again. Was that really what you were talking about?"

"Well... no," he said. "I was sorta... asking about you." His face was red, and he looked away.

I didn't want him to feel awkward again, so I said, "I'm excited to learn how to shoot a gun."

"That's right, I almost forgot," he said, looking at me again. "Hey, maybe after I teach you guns I can show you how to ride a dirt-bike." He smiled.

"One step at a time, Connor. Don't wanna make me into bad-ass too quickly." I smiled back. We reached the car, and hopped into the backseat. John handed Sarah her food and then chowed down. I bit into my burger. "Mm, this is really good," I said after eating my first bite.

"Agreed," John said.

"You know," I said, "I used to be vegetarian."

"Really?" John asked.

"Well, my mom went through this kind of hippie phase, I guess as her mid-life crisis, so we didn't have meat in the house. Every once in a while, though, my dad would take us out to get burgers or whatever else. A real bonding experience." I continued to eat.

"Well then, enjoy the special treat." He smirked.

We ate for a while, and I felt much better with a full stomach. Which was now completely stuffed. I offered John some of my fries, but he was full too. So I tried asking Sarah.

"Sarah, do you want some fries? I'm too stuffed," I said, reaching the fries out to her. If she wasn't gonna talk to me on her own, then maybe I could get her to say something.

"No," was the only thing she said. I expected nothing more. I felt like she hated me, but I didn't really understand why. I knew she was protective of her son, but how did acknowledging my existence put him in danger? I was going to be his second-in-command, after all. She knew that much at least. I shrugged it off, figuring I could always try to talk to her later.

...


	6. Chapter 6-Nightmares

...

(John's perspective)

Sarah left, probably to go eat her meal in peace, and left John and Paige alone. "You know," Paige said, "You could just ask about me."

"Really?" he asked, relieved.

"I'm an open book," she said. "What do you want to know?"

"Just average stuff. I mean, you know a lot about me. But I don't know much about you."

"Where did he leave off?" she asked, gesturing to the terminator outside.

"He was just talking about your last diary entry..." John said with a smirk.

"Ha ha, very funny, but I don't have a diary," she said.

"Darn. Well, he said your birthday, your parents names, and that your mom was in the military."

"Oh yeah. She was in the army, pretty high up. I didn't know much about it, though. She kind of hid it from me. She pushed me to go into the army, but I wasn't interested. I didn't want to go to military school, or learn about weapons, or anything. I guess it would've been good to know." Her eyes glazed over, and she stared wistfully into the distance. "So I stayed where I was. It's funny, we were actually gonna move soon, since she got promoted. But..."

She cleared her throat, shaking her head. "Anyways, um, I went to school with my brother. We were close. Never really fought much. I had a few friends in school, but the one that was always there was my best friend Rachel. She always tried to get me into trouble with her." She laughed, pausing for a moment. "I wonder where she thinks I am. Oh, and then there was that girl, who kicked me yesterday. Did you see that?" John nodded. "She kinda picked on me and Rachel. I actually punched her in the face that day." She grinned.

"Bullshit," John said, laughing. All of this was interesting to him, learning about her life. She was a bit of a mystery to him.

"No joke! She was being a bitch, so I punched her. I guess she got her revenge." She patted her side, where she was kicked. "At least I finally got the courage to hit her. But yeah, that was most of my life. It's not as cool as yours, I know."

"If that's what you call a cool life, then now you've got it too. And punching assholes is pretty cool, by the way."

"Well, thanks, I guess." She smiled shyly. "What else is there?" she asked after a moment. She seemed lost in thought. "I know some self-defense," she said finally. "My dad made me take classes."

"Oh really? How much?" John asked, smirking.

"A little of this, a little of that," she said.

"That doesn't sound like much."

"Are you doubting me, Connor?" she said, and she got an evil smile on her face.

"Not doubting, just... questioning," he replied, waiting to see where she was gonna go with this.

She grabbed both his wrists, crossed them, and spun him around, so that his arms were crossed around his neck. She wasn't choking him, but he was stuck in her hold. "Still questioning?"

"Yep," he said, and he untwisted his arms, turned, and was able to pin her to the wall.

"Yeah, I didn't get very far in the class," she admitted. Then John realized that he was just about on top of Paige, and had probably been there for too long. "You can, um, get up now," she said. She was blushing a little bit.

"Sorry, I was just– sorry," he said. He got off quickly and brushed imaginary dust off of himself.

"It's fine," she said, and her face grew red after she said it. "I mean, it's not fine, but I know it wasn't on purpose and I wasn't hurt and you didn't do anything wrong and I–"

"I know what you mean," John said, laughing at the way she was rambling. _She looks kinda cute when she's embarrassed,_ he thought. _Wait, did I just think that? Holy shit, I did. Get a grip!_ But he couldn't. Every time he looked at her, his face became red. But before he could think about it anymore, something happened.

Sarah and the terminator jumped into the car, and as soon as the doors were shut they sped away. "What the hell's going on?" John asked.

"There was a cop looking for us," Sarah replied. This wasn't good.

"The authorities suspect that Paige and her family went missing because of us," said the terminator.

"Great," Paige said. "How many?"

"Just the one, but there might be more later," Sarah said. John looked at Paige. She looked almost ashamed, like it was her fault that this was happening. Then she did something unexpected.

She looked back to see if the cop was after them, and it was. She rolled down the window. "What are you doing?" Sarah snapped at her.

She stuck her head out and waved to the officer. It looked like she was trying to get him to roll down his window. Then she shouted, "I'm fine! I just ran away from home!" She ducked her head in and said, "Someone give me a gun. I'm not gonna shoot, just trust me."

The terminator handed her a small handgun, and she held it out the window and shouted again. "See? I'm holding a gun, I could leave if I wanted to!"

"Do you need police assistance? Are they holding you hostage?" The officer said into a megaphone.

"No, I'm fine!"

"Where are your parents?"

"At home! They told me to leave so I went to my friend!" She was putting up a very good act.

"Pull over," the officer said. However good the act was, he was still probably getting suspicious.

"Do it," instructed Paige. "And play along," she added.

"Go ahead," John said.

The terminator pulled over. The officer walked up and pointed a gun towards him. Everyone raised their hands.

Sarah spoke up. "We're just her friend's family. This is my son, John." John thought he should do something, so he waved at the officer.

"I'm fine, really," Paige said. "Just please let us leave. I kinda wanna get some rest."

"Her parents know about this," Sarah said, and she held up a hand, pretending to be hiding what she was saying from Paige. "They just didn't want her in the house anymore. We just want her to be somewhere safe instead of on the streets, you know? And we'd really like to get home."

The police officer glanced around the car suspiciously. He must not have been a very good cop, because he said, "Carry on," and went back into his cruiser. _That was__ pretty damn smart,_ John thought.

Once the officer turned around and left, the car began moving again.

"Nice going, Anderson!" John said to Paige. "Where'd you learn to act like that?"

"I used to be in school plays," Paige replied. "I guess that's something else interesting."

...

(Paige's perspective)

Finally, I was actually useful! I got us out of that situation, and I didn't even need to use the gun, just hold it. But it was much easier considering the officer wasn't a merciless killing machine.

We drove for a while, and I got kinda bored again. But I didn't play games, I was too tired. So I took a nap.

I was woken up by the sound of Sarah's voice talking to John. "Get her off of your shoulder," she said. I didn't realize it until then, but I was apparently resting my head on John's shoulder. I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to face the embarrassment of being caught like that.

Instead of waking me, though, John defended me. "Why? She's not doing anything wrong."

"Why are you defending her? I told you to get her off of your shoulder and that should be it,"

"That shouldn't be it. It's my shoulder, and I say she can rest on it," he said.

"Really, what _is_ so special about her? Why do you need to protect her?" Sarah continued.

"I don't know. She's nice to me, and she's smart, and she's funny, and... and she'll be my second-in-command, so she's important, and..." He trailed off. It was only to a certain extent that you could defend a girl lying on your shoulder to your overprotective mother.

Silence from Sarah. I don't know if she gave him a look or anything, but she sounded more shocked than angry at his words. And the more I thought about it, the more that made sense.

I was slightly confused, however, about why she wanted me off of his shoulder so badly. But I was still tired, so I let it go. I kept my head on his shoulder, glad that there was now silence, and he rested his cheek on my head. I fell back asleep.

...

(John's perspective)

John put his cheek on Paige's head, wishing he could vent to her about his mom. She never understood how he felt, and he couldn't understand how she felt either. _Why is it such a big deal?_ he thought. Then he thought about why he _was_ defending her, why she _was_ so special to him. She was going to be his second-in-command, and his future wife, for one. And she was nice to him, and she was smart, and she was funny.

He thought about other things he liked about her. _She __always listens to what I have to say__,_ he thought, _a__nd she's pretty. W__ait a minute, did that just happen again? Yeah, it just did._ Just to test things, he lifted his head and looked at her. Chills rushed down his spine. But they weren't from cold. _Shit,_ he thought, _stop doing that. Not cool._ He put it out of his mind, though it was slightly difficult with her on his shoulder.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I woke up much later, when we had stopped for gas again. John had taken his head off of my shoulder. _He must be calm now,_ I thought. I lifted my head and stretched out my arms. John looked at me and smiled. "I'm gonna go walk around, wanna come?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied, and we got out of the car. We began to walk around, not towards anything in particular.

"So," I said, "where exactly are we going? I know it'll be in Mexico, but where?"

"My mom bought a place a while back. That's where we were going to head to before this happened. Once we get there we just try to live off the grid for a while."

"Okay," I said. "But what if the T-1000 finds us? I don't think we'll find another steel mill just lying around."

"We got plans. Apparently we made a weapon in the future that could actually destroy one of those things, but the big guy over there couldn't take it back with him. So we're gonna build one. We just need supplies."

"Good," I said. "I can't wait till it's dead." I thought a moment. "Where are we gonna get the supplies?" I asked.

"Enrique," he replied.

"Ah." Then my mind began to wander. I thought about the future, about the war, about Judgment Day. Excluding the three people I was able to save, my family, everyone I knew was gonna die. Neighbors, friends, relatives. All of them, gone. And once again I could do nothing about it. "Do you think we'll make it?" I asked. "Do you think we'll win the war, and everything could go back to normal?"

"It'll take a while, but I think we'll make it."

"I hope so," I said. I looked at John. His eyes were so green, I felt like they pierced into mine.

He smiled at me. "What?" he asked. His voice sent chills down my spine.

"Nothing," I said. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Well, um," I said, trying to think of an excuse, "I just... I need to tell you something." That became an opportunity to tell him about the eavesdropping thing I thought for a moment about how I didn't tell him. He wouldn't be angry, right?

"What's up?" he said.

"I was awake in the car, when she told you to get me off of your shoulder." My face grew red. "Please, don't be mad. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just didn't want to be awake for her telling you that, 'cause it was kind of a weird situation. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," he said. Whew. "I would've done the same thing. It was pretty damn awkward." He laughed.

"I hope she's okay," I said. "I mean, I know she's okay, she's never not okay. But I hope she's not upset with anyone."

"Yeah," John said. Suddenly I heard thunder, and I felt a couple of raindrops.

"Shit," I said, "let's go back to the car." We half walked, half jogged back to the car, the rain getting heavier as we went, and hopped back in. The terminator had just finished filling up the tank and hopped in too. The car started, and off we went.

...

John, the terminator, and I were all pretty damp by the time we got inside. I wrung out my hair. John flipped his hair out of his eyes, whipping some of the water out.

We drove on in silence until we all grew tired again, and everyone began to look for a place to stop and rest. Luckily, we found another garage slightly similar to the one before. We broke inside, pulled the car in, and got out.

"Ugh, I'm exhausted," I said.

"Me too," John said.

The terminator didn't have a window to look out of this time, so he simply stood by the door, watching. Sarah had a similar set up as she did earlier, smoking in the corner, eventually falling asleep sitting up.

John and I got in the car. "You want the seat this time?" he asked.

"I'm good, thanks," I said.

"No problemo," John said, making me laugh. It reminded me of the things he said in the movies, the things that made me like him in the first place. We lied down and slept. Once again, I had a dream.

It was different this time. I was watching my family eat dinner in my house, but I wasn't there with them. There was a TV on in the background, but no one seemed to be watching it. I read the headline, "Nuclear Bombs Set Off in Russia, Millions Dead". I came over the sudden realization as to why I was watching them. It was Judgment Day. I tried to shout at them, to tell them to run and hide and take cover. But they couldn't hear me. Suddenly it happened and my heart almost stopped. I could see them all, frozen in their horrified positions, burn and turn to ash. They were blasted away, turned into nothing but dust. I was somehow invincible to the horrible things going on around me.

The dream transformed. I was now standing in the desert. There was someone shouting for me, urgently. I ran as quickly as I could to where the shouting was coming from. I looked down and there, lying on the ground, was John. He had been yelling for me. He wasn't moving or breathing, and there was blood pooling around his head. "John," I said, and I fell to my knees before him. I heard more screaming, so I got up and ran to where it was coming from.

I found my mother, still alive, cradling my brother in her arms. He had been stabbed, and was losing blood quickly. My father was about a foot away, dead. My mother looked at me, and mouthed the word _run_. I looked up and saw the T-1000, blood dripping off of his sword-like arm. It smiled at me, a cruel, merciless smile. It stabbed its arm through my mother's chest. I screamed, and I fell to the ground before her. I held my hands over the wound. "Paige," she whispered, "go to Crystal Peak."

"Mom," I said, but before I could finish she stopped breathing. I remembered that the T-1000 was still there, and looked up at it. It stabbed my shoulder and pinned me to the ground. "Please!" I shouted at it. "Please don't do this!" It raised its other arm, hovering it directly above my forehead. "No!" I screamed.

"No! No!" I screamed again, waking up from the nightmare. Suddenly I felt hands on my shoulders. I sat up and tried to push them off, thinking they weren't human. "No!" I repeated once more.

It was John. "Paige! Paige! It's okay, calm down!" he told me. I stopped pushing, and burst into tears. "What the hell happened?"

"It killed you John, and then it killed my family right in front of me! And it _smiled_. It _enjoyed_ it!" I said, tears once again streaming down my face. I knew that this was the second time in two days that I was crying in front of John. But at the same time, it didn't matter to me now.

"What did?" he asked.

"That _thing_, the T-1000. And Judgment Day happened, and my family just... they were just destroyed."

"It was just a bad dream. Everything's fine," John said. Then he hugged me. I sobbed into his shoulder and embraced the hug. He scooted onto the floor next to me and pulled me towards him.

"Don't leave," I said. I didn't want to be alone. I couldn't handle being alone.

"I won't," he said.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

I wrapped my arms around his torso, hugging him and resting my head on his chest. He put his arm around me and kept me close to him. The longer we were in this position, the weirder I felt. In a sense, I just met John. But in that moment, I didn't really care, and it seemed like he didn't either. I felt safe, and cared for, and very, very, tired, but I didn't want to face another nightmare.

"I don't wanna go back to sleep," I said, taking in a shaky breath after wards.

"I'll stay up with you," he said. I paused.

"John, I'm so sorry," I said. "I don't mean to be so..." Pathetic. Needy. A million other things he probably hated me for.

"It's fine," he said, laughing slightly. "You've gone through a shit ton in only two days. Most girls would've probably gone completely nuts by now."

"Yeah, well, I'm not most girls."

"I can tell," he said, laughing again.

"Thanks for putting up with it, I guess."

"My pleasure." I took a deep breath with those words, relaxing slightly and, after a short while, was finally able to fall back asleep.

...


	7. Chapter 7-The Weapon

**[A/N: Sorry for the delay with this chapter, I was editing the other ones to ~perfection~. Enjoy!]**

...

(John's perspective)

John woke, not entirely sure why he was sitting up. He felt something next to him move, and he remembered the previous night. He smiled. She had a horrible nightmare, and woke up screaming. He calmed her down and, when she started crying, hugged her and sat next to her. She begged him not to leave, made him promise, and he did. He stayed up with her until she fell back asleep and they stayed in the close position all night. Now Paige was attached to him like a leech. He kind of liked being her source of comfort. It meant they would be close together.

Then Paige stirred and let go of him after a moment, finally waking up. She rubbed her eyes. "Morning," John said.

"Barely," she joked. "I'll be back in a sec, I gotta go 'powder my nose.'" She put air-quotes around the last three words and got out of the car, making her way towards the bathroom.

A few moments after she left, Sarah and the terminator got into the front of the car. Shortly after that Paige emerged and hopped into the back with John. "Are we in a hurry or something?" she asked.

"Yes," replied the terminator, and he sped out of the garage and onto the road.

They rode for only another couple of hours before they reached Enrique's. At that point Paige was sleeping again, obviously still tired from the night before. They stopped the car, John remembering the familiar and safe environment of the Salceda's.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I had fallen asleep in the car when John suddenly woke me, saying, "Paige, wake up. We're here."

"Finally," I said. "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour, I think."

We were parked at what I guessed was Enrique's place. Sarah got out of the car and pointed her gun somewhere, the terminator following suit. The same scene played out, with Enrique coming out and the two hugging like old pals. Everyone else came out of their hiding places, and John said, "C'mon," as he got out of the car.

I followed him, and he hugged Enrique's wife as she said in a chipper voice, "_How are you? I haven't seen you in so long_!" in Spanish. I didn't know anything she was saying beyond the first three words.

"_Good, good,_" he replied.

She came over to me and hugged me, but still appeared to be speaking to John. "_Is this your girlfriend? She's very pretty_!"

Whatever she said, it made his face turn red. "_No, she's a friend_," he said. Then she walked towards Sarah to greet her.

"What was she saying?" I asked.

"Nothing, um, she just called you my girlfriend," he said.

"Oh." My face became red too.

"Yeah. But if it makes you feel any better, she called you pretty."

Sarah came up, and made John, the terminator, and I go get "supplies". We went down to the hidden bunker, which was filled with guns, guns, and even more guns.

"Holy shit," I said. "That's a lot of firepower."

"Yep," John said, and we climbed down the ladder.

...

(John's perspective)

When they were all inside, Paige started making jokes about which gun she wanted to use first. "I wanna use this one," she said, pointing to a large rifle, "then this one," pointing to a shotgun, "and as a closer, this one," pointing to a GE M134 Mini-gun. John laughed.

"Maybe we should start with something that doesn't weigh more than you," he joked.

"Oh, fine," she said, crossing her arms and jokingly stomping her foot like an angry four-year-old.

They moved boxes and guns, then more boxes and more guns. Paige climbed up and down the ladder, the terminator handing her things to put up at the surface. John watched her for a moment. She moved so gracefully, her hair bouncing over her shoulders as she climbed each step. Then he looked away, realizing he was gawking at her.

After they finished taking everything they needed, they all left the desert armory and covered it back up. "So," John said to Paige, "are you ready to learn?"

"Definitely."

...

(Paige's perspective)

John set up an area for us to work far away enough that it wouldn't disturb anyone else. There were cans sitting on crates, which served as targets good enough for me to shoot at.

We started with handguns. John told me the name of the gun, showed me how to turn the safety on and off, and taught me how to load it. But then I actually had to shoot the gun.

"When you shoot, the gun's gonna have a kick," he explained. "That's called recoil." I nodded. "Be ready for it, but don't tense up, or you might hit yourself in the face."

He showed me how to stand, and hold my arms, and aim. Then he handed me the gun. It was kind of weird to be actually holding it. It was almost scary to have something so powerful in your hands. John must've sensed my hesitance, because he put a hand on my shoulder, smiled, and said, "Just remember to relax."

I got into my stance, put my arms out in front of me, inhaled, and pulled the trigger, exhaling as I tried to shoot the can. I successfully shot it without hitting myself in the face, but I missed my target. "Damn," I said in defeat.

"You're aiming too high," he said. "Hold it lower, like this." John came up behind me and held my arms up higher. I shivered, getting goosebumps from the sudden closeness. I kind of liked it, and a nervous smile grew on my face.

"Okay," I said, "here we go." I kept my arms where he showed me to. I tried to relax. I shot the gun again, but this time it went below the can.

"No," John said, "you're tensing up too much. You gotta relax your arms." He came up behind me and adjusted my arms, and I shivered again.

"Why are you shaking?" he asked me. I was caught.

"Oh," I said, coming up with an excuse, "I just, uh, don't like the recoil."

"I don't think that's it," he said. _Shit,_ I thought, _think of__ something else. Quickly!_

"Well, why else would I be shaking?" was what I settled on.

"Maybe," he said, smirking and coming up behind me once again, "it's because you like it when I'm close to you." He held up my arms, coming so close that I could feel his chest on my back and his breath on my hair, and I shivered once more. _S__top doing that,_ I told myself. But he was so close.

"Yeah, that's it!" he exclaimed.

"I, uh... I..." I tried to explain, to defend myself, but I only ended up turning bright red. I pulled away, mortified.

"Hey, I'm just teasing," he said, his smile turning into a frown.

"I know," I said. "I just... need a break." I handed him the gun, avoiding eye contact, and went over and sat on the wooden picnic table.

I put my head in my hands, trying to get my red face to go away. I thought about what happened. Not just about the moment before, but about all of the moments I had with John. I analyzed them, trying to figure out my feelings. Eventually I came to a conclusion. _God dammit,_ I thought,_ I like him. I_ like_ John Connor._ I realized that I was crushing on him, hard. I'd never really had that before, a crush. It was much weirder than I'd expected. But at the same time, it was really nice.

...

(John's perspective)

John thought about what had just happened. He made her that way, he made her so upset. He pushed her too far.

He was excited to teach her about guns, to make her into a robot-killing bad-ass. And the fact that he got to be so close to her was, to him, a plus.

But then she shook, she shook at his touch. She didn't flinch, or pull away, or even do nothing. She shook. She wasn't even about to shoot. He knew that, and so did she. So when he asked her why she was shaking, and she said that thing about the recoil, it didn't add up. He didn't even think until then that when he liked to be close to her, she might have liked to be close to him too. Sure, he had been the shoulder she cried on. But that was when she was upset. This, this was just learning. This was happy.

She asked what else she could have been shaking at, perhaps to make him jump to different conclusions, and he gave her what he thought to be the truth. She didn't object, she didn't say, "That's not true." But she did blush, and when he touched her arms again, she shook again. That made him sure. He said, "Yeah, that's it!" out of excitement, and regretted it when she was stammering and clearly upset. He didn't mean to embarrass her.

He tried to pass it off as him just teasing, and she tried to pass it off as knowing that already, but then she left and sat on the picnic table. He looked at her, pained that she was so upset. The more he thought about what happened, however, the more he realized: he didn't just like her, he didn't just think she was pretty, he didn't just like being close to her. He liked her. He _wanted_ to see that she liked his closeness. He _wanted_ to see that she liked him back.

_Holy shit,_ he thought, _I like her. I_ like_ Paige Anderson._ He realized that he was, as the other kids at his old school would say, crushing on her, hard. He'd never really had a crush before, and it was much weirder than he'd expected. But at the same time, it was really nice.

He waited until she seemed more calm, and went over to the table to apologize.

...

(Paige's perspective)

When I had come to terms with it, and my head was out of my hands, I saw John come over to me. He sat down next to me. "Listen," he began, "I didn't mean to... I went too far. I'm sorry."

I could hear the pain in his voice. "It's okay," I said, "you weren't doing anything wrong." I wasn't angry with him, I was more frustrated at the situation. I couldn't even tell if he liked me: he hadn't shown any signs. The closeness thing could've been him being his usual cocky self. The only thing I was sure of was that I had fallen for my new friend, and I had fallen for him hard.

So if I told him, and he didn't like me back, then who knows how long I would be stuck with that?

"You're not mad?" he asked.

"No, I'm not mad," I said. I smiled slightly, trying to make it seem like I was okay.

He looked at me with an inquisitive expression on his face. "Okay, then why were you so upset just there? There was definitely something."

"You've been asking a lot of questions," I said, trying to put the focus on him.

"C'mon, don't change the subject. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"I'm not so sure," he said.

"Fine. I'm gonna say what you said to me: I don't think you wanna hear it," I said, smiling.

"Okay, I'll drop it," he said, and he put his hands up in surrender. "For now."

"Can we just go back to shooting?" I asked, hopping off the table and grinning. "Or are you giving up on me?"

"Alright, let's go," he said, putting a smile back on his face. "If we keep going, we might be able to move on to the big shit by sundown."

"Cool," I said, and we went by the cans and continued shooting, John coming quite close to me every once in a while. I still couldn't control my shivering, but this time he didn't question me on it.

...

(John's perspective)

He was glad Paige wasn't mad, but was still, of course, quizzical. There was something bothering her, he just couldn't figure out what it was. She told him he didn't want to hear it, but if it wasn't her being mad about before, then what did it have to do with him?

He continued teaching her how to shoot. He got through a few handguns before they had to stop. He would teach her the name, show her how to load it, and so on and so forth. But every once in a while he got to come close to her by fixing her posture or helping her aim. He enjoyed that. Even if they said nothing when it happened.

...

(Paige's perspective)

We did all of this when Sarah was getting food and clothes. She came and got us, thankfully when John wasn't close to me, telling us to get into a truck. We said our goodbyes to the Salceda family, double checked that we had everything we needed, and left.

In the truck there was silence, but there wasn't much to talk about. We weren't in the truck for very long. Night had fallen and we hit the border, fake passports and gun registrations with us. Apparently Enrique made them for us, among other things.

After that we reached a place, a small house, where I assumed we'd be living. To me it was cute and not too small to live in. After all, the terminator didn't need much space, and besides that there were only three people.

"So this is it," I said. "It's nice."

"And it's got a bunker," John added.

"Sweet," I said. We went inside.

There wasn't much, just some average furniture that looked either stolen or used. There were some personal belongings, but it didn't surprise me that Sarah kept so little of them. Material belongings were insignificant in the face of a nuclear war.

"Is the bunker already set up?" I asked. "For Judgment Day and everything."

"It is," Sarah said, "but we're not gonna be here for Judgment Day. We have other plans."

"Oh," I said. I knew it was happening, the nuclear bombs, and war, and fallout. I wouldn't have been there if it wasn't. But it was always so distant to me, so far away. I wondered how far away it was. "So... when is Judgment Day supposed to happen?" I asked.

"On July 25, 2024," replied the terminator. "But Skynet does not want to be predictable, so it is possible that it might change."

"What is that, nine years from now?"

"Correct." I didn't want it to be so soon. I wanted it to be farther, much, much farther. I wanted it to never happen at all. But that wouldn't happen, and in the back of my mind I knew that.

"So," I said, "what happens now?"

"We kill the T-1000," Sarah said. _Oh, joy,_ I thought. _This'll be fun._

...

(John's perspective)

They got started. This job was mostly in the terminator's hands, because he was the only one who knew how to build the weapon. He asked for specific tools and supplies that they had collected at Enrique's. Then he began to build something indescribably complicated to create, but simple in its own way. It was sort of like a home-made bomb, but smaller, and it fit inside a gun like a bullet.

It only took about an hour to create. When it was finished, John said, "Whoa, that's awesome." It was mesmerizing to look at.

"Totally," Paige said in response. They both stared at the incredibly tiny and powerful creation. The terminator carefully loaded it into a handgun so that the next shot fired would be with the bomb-bullet.

"So, how do we find it?" Paige asked. "Do you need a whistle or something?" John laughed at the joke. She proceeded to jokingly call out to the T-1000, saying, "Here, psycho psycho psycho! Come here boy!"

"Enough jokes," Sarah said coldly. "But we _are_ gonna call it. We make it come to us, track us through a cell phone, and we wait."

And they did just that. The four of them got anything that they wouldn't need out of the truck, so as to not look so suspicious, and drove to one of the last places they would've normally gone: the city.

They went and bought a cheap, disposable cell phone and activated it, then went back inside the truck. "Who're we gonna call?" John asked.

"_Ghostbusters!_" Paige suddenly sang.

"I _knew_ you were gonna say that," John said to her, laughing.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist," she said, grinning.

"We'll order a pizza," Sarah said, ignoring their conversation, "and give them our address. Then we wait outside."

"Good idea," Paige said.

"Yeah," John agreed, "and we'll get some pizza outta the deal." His stomach was growling, but it could wait. Then they drove back to the house and got as ready as they would ever be.

...

(Paige's perspective)

Once we got back, Sarah went up to John and me. "You two," she said, "stay inside. And take these." She handed each of us a loaded handgun, which I thankfully now knew how to shoot. "Just in case."

She then hugged John, much to his and my surprise, and kissed him lightly on the top of his head. Then, she looked at me and, _very_ much to his and my surprise, did the same to me. _Maybe she's finally warming up to me,_ I thought.

John and I went to the farthest back room of the house, which was upstairs. Sarah and the terminator went outside to the front. They were going to call a pizza joint and wait for the T-1000 to find us.

We shut the door, sitting on the edge of what I guessed was Sarah's bed. "I hope this works," I said.

"It will," he replied.

"Good," I said. We sat and listened for a while. Nothing happened. We listened more. Once again, nothing happened. It continued like this for a good while.

Then we heard a car or something similar pull up. We didn't know if it was the pizza guy or the T-1000. Then I heard gunshots, and I almost shouted, but John clamped his hand over my mouth until the urge faded.

Then we heard footsteps. "It's okay, its dead," came Sarah's voice. But we knew it could imitate voices, so we both aimed our guns at the door. I held my breath. The door creaked open, the suspense killing me, and when it opened, in came both Sarah and the terminator. Now we knew it was dead, because it couldn't change into two things at once.

"Thank god," I said, lowering my gun and breathing out. John, after a moment, also lowered his gun.

We went outside to look at the wreckage, but there wasn't much to look at. The T-1000 hadn't just been melted, or set on fire, or had exploded, it combusted into nothingness. There were some ashes, but they blew away into the wind and mixed with the sand. My nightmare, finally, was gone. "That," John said, "is pretty fucking cool."

...

**[A/N: Woo! So much happened in this chapter. John and Paige discovered they loved each other (but didn't tell each other about it), they arrived at their new home, _and_ they killed the T-1000. Hope you liked it, and if you did, stay tuned and review, review, review!****]**


	8. Chapter 8-Lots of Naps

**[A/N: This chapter gets interesting... Just saying...]**

...

(Paige's perspective)

_Two weeks later_

Over the course of the last two weeks we got our new life together. We made new identities for ourselves. We kept first names, but changed our last ones. I became Paige Miller, adopted daughter of Sarah Miller and brother of John Miller. And the terminator even got to become our "Uncle Bob."

I kept training, learning basic weaponry and mechanics and other things of a similar kind. It wasn't very serious stuff, just me learning how to name, disassemble, and reassemble guns. John and I went to the closest school, which was nice and close enough to walk to. Most of the people there knew enough English that I didn't have a problem, but I did pick up some Spanish. I could probably have an entire conversation now. I made a few friends, but John was always the closest one I had. He still didn't know I liked him.

I stayed upstairs, in a small spare room across the hall from John's room and down the hall from Sarah's. I gave it some personality with things given to me by John and friends at school. They were pretty cool things, even cooler than what was in my old room.

Aside from the training, lack of cell phones, and living in Mexico with a terminator, our lives were pretty normal. We had meals like a family, but the terminator obviously didn't eat. Sarah warmed up to me a great deal, treating me like I actually was her daughter. She relaxed a bit, becoming less harsh. She even laughed and made jokes every once in a while.

...

The nightmares continued. I had them the first night. I had just been given my things, some food, and a tour of the house, and was just told about the plans for the near future. At the end of the day I went to sleep in my bed, which I was thankful for having. I was getting tired of sleeping on the floor of a car every night. I was told to sleep with a gun under my pillow, in case of emergency. Then I had the same nightmare as before. Judgment day happens, my family dies, then I see them, John, and myself get murdered by the T-1000.

I woke, that first night in my new home, in a cold sweat. I shouted once, but quickly realized where I was and stopped. I sat up and cried, pained by watching my family die again. I held in my tears and got up. I wanted to go talk to John, but felt weird about going to his room in the middle of the night. What if he felt weird about it too, or was annoyed? I thought for a moment and decided I didn't care. Glancing down the hallway to make sure no one was there, I tiptoed across the hall. I lightly knocked on the door, not wanting to wake Sarah.

John came out, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He looked at me and his expression immediately became concerned, mixed with a bit of confusion. "Paige?" he asked. Then he laughed slightly, saying, "I didn't order anything." My chin wobbled slightly, thinking that maybe it was too weird and growing embarrassed. But I was still so afraid.

I muttered the words, "Never mind," and turned to go back to my room, my face red.

"Wait," he said, and he put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around. "It's okay, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said, lying.

"Yeah, you just came here in the middle of the night for nothing. What happened?"

"I... it's stupid, you're gonna laugh at me." I looked down.

"I'm not laughing," he said. "Tell me what's wrong."

Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I weakly said, "I had another nightmare, and I'm really scared, and I just... don't wanna be alone."

"Come in," he said, gesturing to the inside of his room. I thought it would be weird, going into his room in the middle of the night. But what else was I expecting, coming to his room so late? Then again, what if someone saw, and took it the wrong way...

I hesitated. "What if... I mean, Sarah would..." I said, playing with my hands nervously.

"It's fine," he assured me. I walked inside, still feeling weird about the whole thing. He left a crack in the door and sat down on the floor in front of his bed. I sat down next to him.

"John?" I said, my voice still weak.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Are you, like, annoyed by this? I don't wanna bother you."

"It's _fine_, Paige, I'm telling you."

"Really?" I asked.

"Just shut up and come here," he joked, and he wrapped an arm around me. I hugged him, thankful for the comfort, and cried again as he pulled me even closer. After the tears subsided, I thought for a moment, partially out loud.

"You know," I said, "I never thought that one day I would wake up and be taken away. Meet who I thought were fictional characters. Have my family... you know. I never thought, when I woke up and got ready for school, _this will be the last day I see my home. This is the last day I will see my family._" I started tearing up again. "I just wish I could've said a real goodbye, to everyone I knew, face to face. Hugged my mom and dad and brother one last time."

John seemed to be lost in thought for a minute. "Sometimes when things are more sudden and unexpected, it makes getting used to them that much easier, since you don't really have a choice." he said. "It makes getting past it make you that much stronger. Even though you'll never move completely past it." I reflected on what he said for a moment. It was very true, and slightly comforting to hear.

"That was one of the most adult things I've ever heard you say," I said.

"Oh yeah? Let's go window shopping later," he joked, "but only after four, I have a business meeting." I laughed.

"Fine, I withdraw my previous statement," I said.

"Jeez, now you're doing it too?"

"Ah ah," I said disapprovingly, "you have to use _complete_ words. Say, 'Jesus, now you are doing it also?'"

"I apologize, I seem to have forgotten," he said mockingly.

"That's more like it," I said, smiling again. We were silent for a while before finally falling asleep.

The next day I woke before John and heard someone walk by the door, probably Sarah, and open it. I pretended to be asleep to see what she would do, afraid that she would misinterpret the situation. But it was only silence, possibly from understanding, and I heard her walk away.

The next night, almost the same thing happened. I had the same nightmare and went to John's door. He opened it and said, "Another nightmare?" I nodded and went inside. I once again fell asleep in his arms. It continued like this almost every night, with no questions from anyone. Aside from the nightmares and fear, it was nice to be so close to John.

...

One day, after school, I was walking home with my friend Sofia. John stayed behind to go see some other friend, or something along those lines. Anyway, this one rude jock kid named Ricky, who was about a year older than Sofia and I, came up and walked next to us. "_Hey, ladies_," he said in Spanish, then in English, "How are you doing?"

"Leave us alone, Ricky," my friend said.

"I don't think I want to," he said in a cocky tone.

"I think you will," I said, getting annoyed.

"Not when both of you are looking so good," he said, and he looked both of us up and down. I didn't understand why girls liked him.

"Fuck off," I said.

"Oh, you _know_ you like it," he said. "Now, why don't you walk with me to my house?" Then things got out of hand. He grabbed my wrist and tried to make me walk with him.

"Get off of me!" I shouted, trying to pull away. He didn't budge, he just pulled on my wrist more. Sofia came up and tried to wrench him off, yet to know avail, as he only grabbed my other wrist. I did know some self defense, but I hadn't learned much and wasn't strong enough.

"Stop, this isn't funny!" Sofia shouted at him.

"It is to me," he replied. "C'mon, just give me a kiss," he said to me, trying to lean over. I turned away, disgusted.

"No!" I yelled at him. "Get off!"

Just when I was about to kick him, I saw John come up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. "Let go, Ricky," he said like he was barking an order at him.

He turned to John. "Oh yeah?" he said. "Why should I?" I continued to struggle in his grasp.

John looked furious. "'Cause if you don't you'll regret it. Let go."

"John," I said, "don't–"

"I'm gonna go with no," Ricky interrupted.

"One last chance, Ricky," John said.

"This makes you mad, doesn't it?" Ricky asked, smirking evilly. "What about this?" he pulled my wrists to make me lose my balance and then pushed me onto the ground. I yelped as Sofia ran over to me. "There, I let her–"

But before he could finish his sentence, John had grabbed his arm and dug his finger into a pressure point. Ricky fell down, whining, "Ow! Let me go, dude!"

"Nope, you gotta say you're sorry first." John smirked at him as I was helped up.

Ricky looked over at me, saying, "Okay, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

John let him go and turned to me. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"Then let's go," he said, taking my hand and leading me away. I turned around and looked at the scene we left.

"I'll see you later, Sofia!" I shouted back at her. "Go home!" She waved goodbye to me and went back to her house, Ricky still whining on the ground, as John and I walked quickly back to ours.

"I should go back there and kick his ass," John said in a huff.

"I think he's had enough," I laughed, stopping and pulling my hand away.

He turned to me. "No, he hasn't. He was being an asshole. He pushed you."

"I know, I was there. I could've handled it myself."

"No offense, but whatever you would do would just piss him off."

"You're probably right," I said, thinking about what would've happened if I'd gone through with kicking him. It wouldn't have done anything, if I even ever did work up the courage to do it.

"He fucking pushed you onto the ground," John said, cooling down and letting his voice lower to a mutter. "Nobody does that, not to you."

"Why are you being to protective? I'm fine, aren't I?"

"I just..." he said, his face growing red. "If you were... if you got hurt, I wouldn't..." He trailed off. He seemed so concerned, so worried about me. He couldn't even explain why he wanted to protect me so badly. And I knew, I knew something was there. Whether he reciprocated my feelings or it was more of a friend or sister thing, I didn't know. But he did care about me. He just wouldn't admit it.

"Whatever," I said, my voice shaking with frustration. "Like I said, I could've handled it myself." I walked ahead of him, hiding my face.

"What is going _on _with you?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, not turning around. I continued walking.

He caught up to me, saying, "Please don't walk away." Then he put a hand on my shoulder. I stopped.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I really am. I just need to be alone." The look of confusion and disappointment that followed killed me. But I walked on anyways.

...

(John's perspective)

Paige had walked with her friend away from the school while he stayed behind with one of his buddies, Carlos. They were friends before Paige had come along. He had to explain her presence, saying that his mom adopted her into their family. She was, to the outside world, his sister.

"I don't care if she's your sister, she's _hot_," Carlos said. Carlos was always kind of a player, but he never actually got any girls.

"Will you shut up about my sister?" John replied. They were staggering behind, walking back home later than Paige and her friend. That was when John heard a shout from Paige, far ahead. "Shit dude, I gotta go," he said, and he took off running.

When he arrived he saw Ricky holding Paige's wrists. She shouted, "No! Get off!" He wouldn't, so John came up and tapped him on the shoulder. He told him to let go. He wouldn't once again and, just to piss him off, pushed her onto the ground. John became filled with rage, grabbing his arm and digging a finger into a pressure point. He made him apologize, much to his satisfaction. John made Paige leave with him, and was still furious when they were far away.

Then she asked why he was being so protective, and he couldn't give an honest answer. _Because I __care about you_, he'd wanted to say. But he didn't. He stammered, and she became frustrated. She ran ahead, and he stopped her. Then she said that she was sorry and needed to be alone. John was extremely confused at her actions but didn't protest, letting her walk ahead of him as he stayed behind, watching her go.

A few moments later he started to walk back to the house, thinking. When he got back Paige was in her room, the door shut and locked. He went into his room and sat on the edge of his bed, feeling guilty.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I walked all the way home, John simply standing there, looking pained. I felt horrible. Not only was I frustrated at him for no good reason, but now he probably thought it was his fault and I'd made him feel even worse. My frustration and the guilt that followed made me want to avoid John completely, as I didn't want to face my shame.

I went inside and Sarah asked why I was home late and where John was. I explained what happened up until the point where we fought, and said that he'd stayed behind with his friend. Then I went to my room and shut and locked the door. All I wanted was for him to like me back. But for all I knew, he didn't. And that was possibly the worst part of it all, that I didn't know if it was one way or the other.

I heard John come in the door, up the stairs, and to his room, where he also shut the door. I came out slowly, not wanting to run into him yet. I went down the stairs and said, "I'm going for a walk," to Sarah.

"There's a can of pepper spray by the door," she said. "Take it with you, 'cause you can't go around shooting other kids." I nodded and went in the next room to leave.

I heard John dash down the stairs and come into this room. "Wait," he said. I turned around and there he was, and I looked at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact.

"Yeah?" I mumbled.

"I'm sorry. I did it because... I... care about you. I don't want you to get hurt."

I looked up at him and stared at him straight in the eyes. I wanted it to be clear. "You don't have to be sorry. _I_ should be sorry. I _am_ sorry. I wasn't even mad at you. I just felt bad. And have I mentioned I was sorry?" I smiled lightly.

"Yes," he said, smiling back. "So we're good?"

"Yeah. I'm still gonna go for a walk though, I need to check on Sofia."

"See ya later," he said, and I went out the door, unknowingly leaving my pepper spray behind.

I walked in the direction of Sofia's house. When I was pretty far away, but the house was still well in sight, something unexpected happened.

A van pulled up next to me. I kept walking, ignoring it. Then one, two, and finally three people got out, all wearing masks. I looked behind me and walked faster, thinking it probably wasn't an early Halloween costume contest. I began to really wish I hadn't forgotten the pepper spray. Then they followed, and walking turned into running, and running turned into being chased. Two of them, a man and a woman, grabbed me by the arms. "Help!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Help!"

Before I could shout that a third time the woman clamped a hand around my mouth. I kicked and struggled, trying to get out of their grasp. I wasn't strong enough, and while I had been trained in some self defense, it wasn't enough to free myself of anyone stronger than me. They quickly dragged me back to the van they'd come out of. I screamed again, but it was muffled.

Then I looked back at the house and saw John come outside. I bit the woman's hand as hard as I could. She moved her hand away, yelping. When she let go, I screamed, "John! Help!" as loud as I could. Then he seemed to have seen me and ran back inside. The people pulled me inside of the van and shut the door, speeding away. I struggled again. They pulled out a zip-tie and fastened it around my wrists. I kicked and kicked, but they only repeated the process with my ankles. Then they sat me down.

I held back tears, trying to be brave, and looked around the van. Including the driver, there were about five people, three men and two women. They were all masked and dressed in black. I swallowed hard and said, "W-What's going on?" No reply. "Who are you?"

"We're soldiers," replied a man.

"Are you going to kill me?" I said, becoming very afraid.

"No."

"Why am I here?" I asked.

"To lure John Connor to us." I became worried, and I was too afraid to ask any more questions. Then I saw the same woman who had grabbed me pull out a bottle full of liquid and a small cloth. She wet the cloth with the liquid and began to reach towards my face with it.

"Is that–"

"Chloroform, yes. Don't worry, we won't hurt you." Then, against my will, she put the cloth over my mouth and I held my breath. "Breathe," she instructed, "you'll have to sooner or later." I reluctantly did and then everything went black.

...

(John's perspective)

John ran inside, faster than he's ever run before. "Mom!" he shouted.

"What?" Sarah asked, and the terminator came out immediately.

"Paige was kidnapped, there were people with masks in a van. They just took her."

"Shit," she said. "Let's go." They all ran out to the truck which, in case of emergencies such as this one, had quite a few weapons in it. John told them the direction they went, and they sped away.

"Where would they go?" John asked.

"The most likely place for kidnappers to go is an abandoned building," the terminator said.

"There's a few of those around here," Sarah replied. "It's a start." She told the terminator the directions to the first place, and he followed accordingly.

"Alright," John said, "this better work."

They arrived at the first place, an abandoned office building, got their guns ready, and went inside. They swept the area like the police, checking every room and keeping their guns in front of them. Nothing.

"Dammit," Sarah said as they climbed back into the truck. She gave directions to the next location. John was worried. Whoever they were, if they wanted to kill Paige, by the time they got there it might end up being too late. He put it out of his mind, focusing at the task at hand. They had to find Paige, and that was all that mattered.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I woke up in a daze, wondering where I was. Then the events of the last hour or so came back to me in a rush. I was kidnapped by crazy soldiers who wanted John and didn't seem to know how to speak more than three words in a row. My wrists were now zip-tied to an old radiator that I was sitting against. I looked around. I wasn't in some crazy murder-cave or anything, and that made me feel slightly better. I seemed to be in a basement, surprisingly well-lit and clean, but empty and cold nonetheless.

I heard people talking upstairs. "What if they don't show up?" came a man's voice.

"They will," another voice said, this time a woman's. "If she was with them before, they obviously need her for something."

"Why do we need her anyways?" said another woman. "Can't we just kidnap him, or kill him?"

"No," said the first woman, who seemed to be the leader. "If we kill him, Skynet will win the war. But we can't kidnap him ourselves. They'd suspect that, and we wouldn't even reach him. We have to make him come to us." _They're from the future,_ I thought. _That makes more sense. But wait..._

"Won't he just bring that terminator with him?" someone else asked.

"Probably, but we'll have the upper hand," the leader replied. There was a pause.

"What's that?" someone said.

"We use this to control the terminator, then use it to tell them where it can find us. Then we'll not only be ready for them, but we'll also have an extra weapon."

I didn't quite understand. They weren't terminators. But they weren't the resistance either. So what were they doing trying to kidnap John? And if they weren't on the Resistance's side, why weren't they on Skynet's side either?

"Alright then," the first man said.

"So now we all understand?" the leader asked. There must have been a silent agreement. "Good. Lucy, go check on her." Faster than expected someone opened the door at the top of basement stairs. Out came the same woman, who I now knew was named Lucy, that'd knocked me out earlier. She saw me awake.

"She's up, Lynn," the woman called upstairs.

"Then give her a pill, we can't use more chloroform," replied the leader, apparently named Lynn. I became worried about the pill, and what it'd do to me. I hoped it would only knock me out. The woman went out of the room for a moment and returned with a medicine bottle and a cup of water. She came down the stairs and walked towards me.

She knelt down and said, "These won't hurt you or cause harmful side effects. But you won't have much control of your body. You will be lucid, though. Can you swallow a pill? If not, we gotta give you an injection." I nodded, afraid to speak. Despite the circumstances, she seemed nice. Motherly, almost. I could imagine her being a pediatrician. Maybe she was that, before she became a soldier.

"Alright, open up," she said, opening the bottle and taking out a pill. I didn't. She wasn't forcing it down my throat, and I suspected she wouldn't. "It's either this or the needle, and we both know who's in control here," she said. I could see the soldier side of her now. And she was right, I wasn't in control.

I opened my mouth and she placed one pill on my tongue, giving me a sip of water. Taking the sip made me realize how horribly thirsty I was. I swallowed. "Open," she said, and I opened my mouth to show her I'd swallowed it.

"Sorry," she said, "we just can't risk you trying to escape." She looked almost like she felt sorry for me, like she wasn't a heartless soldier. Then I felt the effects of the pill kick in. It was almost like my entire body went numb, but I could still feel it. I just couldn't move. I was lucid enough to stay awake and know what was going on, but not much besides that. Lucy stood up.

"Can I have the water?" I asked, staring at the still almost-full cup. She looked down at me, seemed to feel just sorry enough for me, and put the cup back to my lips. I drank the rest gratefully. "Thanks," I said. There was no reply, but that of course didn't bother me. Then she left.

I thought about what I could do, sitting there, becoming drowsy. The more I thought, the more I realized that there wasn't anything I _could _do. At least now now. I would need to bide my time, and hope that I would reach Sarah and John before it was too late.

Despite my worry, the drowsiness got to me, so I leaned my head back and fell asleep.

...

(John's perspective)

They traveled from place to place, searching each one thoroughly, and coming up with nothing each time. And each time John became more worried. Eventually, they came to the last place they thought Paige could be. They went inside and searched, and once again came up with nothing. They were at a loss.

"What're we gonna do now?" John asked as they hopped into the car and drove on in no particular direction.

"I don't know," Sarah replied, "it's not like we can go to the cops."

"We have to do something," he said, his voice shaking. "We have to," he repeated, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. He fought them back, not wanting to let the worry get to him.

"I know," Sarah said. "I guess we just have to keep driving around, and maybe see if we can find anything."

And so they did. They drove almost all night, until, just as the sun was coming up, something unexpected happened.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I woke up again, in the same spot. Someone was coming down the stairs. I could move again, but I was stiff and tired. That was probably why Lucy was coming down the stairs.

"Drug time," she said. She was holding more water and another pill.

"Why is it always you that gives them to me?" I asked as she leaned down.

"I don't really know," she replied. "I guess I'm the only one qualified. Or maybe everyone else is too qualified." She gave a light smile, and then it faded as she seemed to be lost in thought. Her expression grew serious, almost angry. I was afraid of what she might do.

"Listen to me," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she looked behind her like she was making sure we weren't being watched. "I want to you hit me in the head."

"What?" I asked, shocked.

"I said, I want you to hit me in the head."

"With what?" I asked.

"Your head," she replied. "Look, I want to help you. What they're doing here, it isn't right. And I can't really explain it more than that. I know you heard what we were saying upstairs, and if you want to escape and go warn your friends, you have to hit me in the head. Make it look like a struggle. I'll just pretend to be knocked out. Act fast. I'll smash the glass, and you can use it to cut yourself free. Then run for the door over there," she pointed to a door in the corner that didn't lead to the stairs, "and go find them. Just run, quickly. Once they hear the glass break they'll be suspicious."

"I..." I said, baffled. "Will you be okay?" I asked.

"I'll be fine," she said. "Just do it. Now."

"Thank you, Lucy," I said.

"No problem, kid," she replied, and she closed her eyes. "Don't get dizzy." I hit my head on hers, and she pretended to fall over and pass out, throwing the glass next to me. She gave me a thumbs up and I was able to grab one of the shards. I cut the zip tie, cutting myself slightly in the process, and stood up. I ran out the door, which lead outside.

I had no idea where I was. It was dark. It still looked like Mexico, and that was enough for me. I ran away from there, faster than I had ever been, and ran into the street. I crossed the road and ran on the sidewalk. There weren't people out, only a couple of cars. I ran and ran. A couple of people, I noticed, were chasing me, but I kept running. I crossed another street and, unknowingly, had run into a car. It stopped just in time, and I placed my hands against the hood.

I looked inside and the first person I saw was Sarah. "Sarah!" I screamed, and the people caught up with me. They pushed a needle into my neck, and then I lost all feeling in my body. I went limp, caught by the two people.

...

(John's perspective)

The sun came up as something darted in front of their car, making the terminator slam on the brakes. They stopped just in time, the thing stopping and coming into focus.

It was Paige. She placed her hands on the hood as the car stopped and looked inside, then screamed "Sarah!" A couple of men ran up to her, the man injecting a needle into her neck. She fell backwards and they caught her.

"Paige!" John shouted. "Stop them!" he commanded. The terminator got out, along with Sarah, just as the people began to drag Paige away. They pointed guns at them as John went out of the car.

"Don't move," Sarah said, her gun not moving off of them. They froze, one of them cursing under their breath. "Put her down slowly." They did, setting her down on the ground. "Search them," Sarah told the terminator, and he went over and patted each one of the men down. Once they found that they were clean, John ran over to Paige.

"Paige?" he asked, Sarah instructing the terminator to tie up the men and keeping her gun on them. "Paige? Are you hurt?" He grabbed her face, trying to look into her eyes.

"John," Paige murmured. "I can't move." Her voice couldn't seem to get very loud at all, and she had tears streaming down her face.

"I know," he said, "but you're okay?"

"Yes," she barely even said, and she closed her eyes. He was so relieved. _She's okay__,_ he thought. _She's alive and everyone's okay._ "We have to leave now," she said.

"Okay," John said. "Let's go." He put Paige's arms in front of her so that they rested in her lap. Then he wrapped one of his arms under her back and the other under under her legs and picked her up. He leaned her head towards him so that it was leaning on his chest to prevent her head from dangling. He also thought she needed the comfort, if she was even still awake.

The terminator had tied them up and left them on the ground. Sarah leaned down to one of the men on the ground and said, "How long till it wares off?" No answer. She dug a finger into a pressure point, much like John had done earlier that day.

"Ow! A couple hours!" She let go.

"Let's leave," Sarah said.

John put Paige into the backseat and went around the car, sitting down next to her as they drove away.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I heard John shout, and they came out of the car. Pointing a gun at them, Sarah told the men holding me to put me down. They did and were searched, and John ran over to me. "Paige?" he asked. "Paige? Are you hurt?" He grabbed my face, trying to make eye contact. I was so relieved, so happy to see him.

"John," I mumbled. I told him I couldn't move, but I realized he already knew that. Tears streamed down my face, as I couldn't hold them back like I'd wanted to. I told him I was okay, and that we had to leave. I'd shut my eyes. He agreed, picked me up, one arm under my back and the other under my legs, and leaned back so my head fell onto his chest for support. It felt nice to be in his arms, leaning against his chest, after being so alone. I could hear his heart beating, which was comforting.

Sarah leaned down and forced a soldier to tell her how long it would take to ware off. Thankfully it would only be a couple of hours. John put me down in the back of the truck, shutting the door for me. Then he went to the other side and sat down next to me. We drove away.

In the car, I said, "They have a device."

"What?" Sarah asked. I couldn't speak louder, so John did for me.

"She said they have a device," he explained before turning to me. "What do you mean?"

"It controls terminators," I said. Then I heard a crack. The terminator held something in his hands, a small, now crushed, remote-looking thing. "Was that it? Were they holding it?"

"She said it controls terminators," John said, "and asked if that was it and if they were holding it. But–"

"This was that device," the terminator interrupted. "They were holding it. I needed conformation on what it was."

"It had to have been it," I said.

"Wait a minute, back up," John said. "This has to do with the future?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. "But if that's broken it doesn't matter right now. I can explain it later."

"Okay," John said.

"What'd she say?" Sarah asked.

"She said if that things broken it doesn't matter right now, and she can explain later. But yeah, it has to do with the future."

"Alright," Sarah said. "They don't know where we live, do they?"

"I don't think so," I said. "They found me closer to Sofia's house."

"She doesn't think so, they found her closer to Sofia's house," John repeated like a parrot.

"Alright," Sarah said again. "Let's go home."

We drove home, and by the time we got there it had already been half an hour. _Only one and a half more,_ I thought.

When we arrived, John took me out of the truck and we all went inside. I was so exhausted that while he climbed the stairs, I fell asleep in his arms.

...

**[A/N: Didn't I tell you? I think that was the best plot twisty thing I've ever written (so far!). As always, hope you liked it, and review, review, review! Seriously though. I wanna know if this story makes sense or not. Stay tuned!]**

...


	9. Chapter 9-Training and More Training

**[A/N: Sorry for the wait, it was a long chapter to write. But you know, while you're waiting you _could_ review...]**

...

(John's perspective)

John carried Paige up the stairs and took her to her room. He sat her up on the bed, only to realize that she had fallen asleep since the car ride. It made sense, considering the events of the past few hours. She'd been grabbed, pushed, angered, kidnapped, tied up, escaped, drugged, and saved. Now she just needed rest and the effects of the drug to ware off. He repositioned her so she was lying down and left the room.

Paige came out to the living room about two hours later, where John was sitting on the couch watching TV. "Hi," she said as she sat down next to him.

"Hey," he said, "feeling better?"

"Yeah," she said. "And I almost forgot, I kinda cut my hand." She held out her hand, where a long, wide, red line ran across her palm. There was some dried blood on the side of her hand now.

"Shit," he said, taking her hand. "Hold on, I'll get some gauze." John got up and went to the medicine cabinet, getting some gauze, tape, cotton balls, and hydrogen peroxide. He came back and sat down next to her. "This will sting, as you know," he said.

He poured some of the hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball and cleaned her cut. She winced, but was otherwise fine, and he wrapped and taped up her hand.

"So, if you don't mind talking about it, what exactly happened?" he asked, still unaware of the reasons behind her kidnapping.

"Well," she replied, "I was walking to Sofia's and this van pulled up beside me. I thought nothing of it until three people came out wearing masks, two men and a woman. They came towards me and I ran, but they caught up with me and pulled me into the van. I screamed, and I guess you heard me." John nodded. "Then they drove away. They put zip-ties on my wrists and ankles. There were five of them, three men and two women. I asked questions, and they said they were soldiers."

"Soldiers?" John asked.

"Yeah, which was weird enough. Then they said that they weren't going to kill me, and that I was there to lure you to them."

"Why'd they do that?"

"I didn't know. Then a woman put chloroform on a cloth and made me inhale it, and I passed out. When I woke up I was in a basement. I heard them talking upstairs. They said they wouldn't be able to kidnap you, and that if they killed you Skynet would win the war."

"So they're from the future?" John asked. She nodded.

"They said that they had to make you come to them. They said they were going to control the terminator with something, and tell it to tell you where to find them. They said they would use it as a weapon."

"I guess we stopped that part. Or Lugnuts did."

"Yeah. Anyways, the person who was saying all of this told someone named Lucy to come and check on me, and she was the same one who'd given me chloroform earlier. She said that I was awake to the other woman, who was named Lynn and seemed to be the leader. Then Lynn told Lucy to give me a pill. She came downstairs and made me take it, saying it would either be that or an injection. She was surprisingly nice, and when I asked for the water she gave it to me. I think she felt sorry for me, like maybe she didn't want to be kidnapping someone, you know?" John nodded again.

"Then I fell asleep. She came back when I was awake again, and almost gave me another pill. But I asked her why she was the one doing this, and she said something about everyone else doing more important things. Then she seemed kinda lost in thought.

"She told me to hit her in the head, with my head, and escape because it wasn't right to keep me there. I hit her, and she pretended to pass out, and broke the glass she was holding. I used it to cut myself free and ran out the door. Then they chased me, and I ran into you guys, and you know the rest."

"Huh," John said, thinking about everything she just told him. "I guess there's a third side to the war, but I've never heard of them. I wonder what they're fighting for."

"I don't know," Paige said, thinking a moment. "Maybe they're the type that wants the war to end, by all means necessary. Kidnap people, bargain with Skynet, kill someone, whatever."

"Sounds possible," John said. Sarah came in and sat down.

"I hope you're up for explaining that all again," she said, "because I want to know everything." Paige repeated the story for Sarah. She thought about it, and could only come to the same conclusion as them.

"You're going to have to do more self-defense training," Sarah said after a moment. "The watching-and-learning thing isn't enough anymore, you've got to start doing hands-on stuff. Shooting, fighting, physical training. All of it. We can't risk it anymore."

"Alright," Paige said. "Sounds fair. And if I can do to that son of a bitch Ricky what John did to him, that'll make it even more fun." She punched the air mockingly, John laughing.

"Good," Sarah said. "John, you can start training her tomorrow." Then Sarah left the room. _Score,_ John thought, remembering when he taught her how to shoot handguns. Now he would get to do it even more. He was excited at the thought.

"Well, I'm gonna go to bed," Paige said. "I'm still exhausted."

"'Night," John said to her as she left the room.

"'Night," she said back and she went upstairs and shut her door. John followed not long after, going up the stairs and into his own bed.

A while later he heard a familiar knock at his door. He woke up and smiled, knowing it was Paige. He opened the door and silently invited her in, sitting on the ground at the foot of his bed. Although he did feel sorry for her, John enjoyed the nights when he got to be her source of comfort.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close as she rested her head on his shoulder. She pulled her knees in and hugged them, staring into space. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"For what?" he asked, looking down at her.

"For today," she said. "I just... I'm always so weak, so helpless. I got fucking _kidnapped._ I couldn't defend myself or anything."

"That's not..." John said, trying to find the words. "Jesus, Paige, look at me." She didn't. "Look at me," he said again. She turned her head and faced him. "You're not weak and you're not helpless. Nobody, I repeat nobody, could fight off five adult soldiers, unarmed, and by themselves. You were scared and that makes sense, everyone would be scared."

"Yeah, but is everyone a coward?" she huffed. She was so angry with herself, John didn't understand it. She didn't do anything wrong. There was nothing she could've done.

"God dammit, yes! Everyone is a coward! And you're probably braver than them. I've seen you, Paige, the worst thing that's happened to you is you almost _die_ and you still put on a brave face. You get kidnapped, which you couldn't help, and you're thinking you're a coward because you were afraid of what would happen?"

"Okay, I get it," she said, "I'm not a coward."

"You're damn right you're not a coward. Trust me, after tomorrow, you'll feel better about this."

"It was so scary, John," she said, now crying. "I thought I was gonna... and you were..." She swallowed hard, unable to finish each sentence. "What if I never escaped? What if you came, and they took you too, and we –"

"But you did," he interrupted. "And now we're okay. Everything's okay. And you need rest." He hugged her closer.

There was silence for a moment before Paige spoke again. "I miss them so much," she said. John knew that she was talking about her family now. "I would kill to tell my mom about my day again, to watch a movie with my dad, to joke around with my brother. It's all I want anymore." John thought. He wanted to open up to her, to show her she wasn't the only one that felt like they lost something.

"I've always wanted to talk to my father," John said finally. "Just to meet him before I'm supposed to meet him, you know?" She nodded. "At least that, to get to be like, 'Hey, I'm your son, you're my dad, wanna play catch or something?' before I have to act like I don't know him when I'm older." He paused. "All I want is to have a real dad, instead of just a crappy father-figure."

"I can't imagine," Paige said, looking up at John. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he said, looking away, "it's just..." Tears were welling in his eyes, but he fought them back, feeling weak. "Just something I think about sometimes."

"I've never heard you open up like that," she said. "I felt like I knew some of the things you felt, but you never really told me. I mean, I tell you stuff, so why don't you tell me stuff?"

"I..." he said, almost feeling accused, "I'm not really used to... to telling people things. I don't do it a lot. No one ever really asks, or listens." His eyes were still watery. He always wanted to tell his mom things, but she never seemed to want to listen until more recently. Still, he felt weird telling Sarah about his wanting of a father, since he thought it would only upset her or make her dwell on the past.

"I'll listen," Paige said.

"Really?" he asked.

"Always," she replied. He felt relieved. "And John?"

"What?" he asked.

"You can cry in front of me. It's okay." John looked down at her, grateful. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he looked forward again, not wanting to stare directly at Paige as he cried. He hugged her closer and cried quietly. Within minutes she was asleep.

John looked down at her, noticing the soft glow of her hair and skin in the moonlight. He thought about the events of the day, how he'd saved her twice. She was now someone he knew he could open up to, could even cry in front of, which he'd never had before. She cared about him, and he cared about her. He soon realized how much.

_Holy shit,_ he thought, _I think I love her._ Then he smiled, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I had gone back to my bed for the night, excited to train with John tomorrow. Despite my embarrassment, I really enjoyed John's closeness when we'd gone over the basics of shooting a gun.

I was able to fall asleep, but the same nightmare happened. So, like most nights, I knocked on John's door. He invited me in silently and we sat down in the usual spot. He wrapped an arm around me, I rested my head on him, and so forth.

He made me realize that I wasn't a coward, that I wasn't helpless, that I wasn't weak. He basically yelled at me to prove it. When I relaxed, I thought about the previous day, but that only made me upset again. It was one of the scariest things I had ever gone through. And John still comforted me, held me close, talked with me. He even opened up to me and cried in front of me, something I was glad he had done. I thought about how John had done that and had come to save me twice. He really cared about me, and I really cared about him. Then I realized just how much.

_Oh my god,_ I thought, _I think I love him._ I smiled at my conclusion, welcoming it much more easily than when I'd discovered my crush on him, and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I was excited about training. I stretched out my legs, waking John in the process. He smiled at me. "Morning," he said.

"Morning," I replied, smiling back.

"Ready to train?" he asked. It was like he was reading my mind.

"Well," I said, "I was already kinda training. But now it's gonna be hands on, bringing out the big guns."

"Literally," he said, and he stood up. I followed, and we went downstairs and ate breakfast. Once we finished eating, we went down to the bunker, where the training equipment was. It was a ginormous bunker, almost bigger than the house itself. It had it's own bedrooms, a place to store food, a weapons cache, and a room that was a cross between a shooting range and gym. It had targets, punching bags, and weights.

When we went down, I tied my hair back and John took off his jacket. We thought I was set on guns for the moment, so we moved on to fighting. This part was fun. John showed me how to properly throw a punch first.

We stood in front of the punching bag, and he told me how to stand and hold my fist. Then he showed me how to punch. As he punched the punching bag, I noticed how toned his arms were. I only noticed it now since I was looking right at it, but he had some very lean muscle, probably from the training he did. And I had to be honest with myself: it was pretty hot. Then I quickly looked away, realizing I was more gawking at him than watching him punch, and blushed. I tried to copy him and failed, and he adjusted my arm. I tried again, but he said I wasn't moving correctly.

"You can't move only your arm," he said, "you have to lean into it." He showed me again, looking, quite frankly, a little bad-ass. I tried to copy him and failed once more. To my surprise, he said, "Here, let me show you." Then he came up close to me, and said, "Okay, go."

As I moved my right arm, he put his hands on my shoulders, gently pushing my right shoulder forward and pulling my left one back. I kinda liked him so close to me, and it made chills rush down my spine. His hands were warm, and his touch was very gentle. I leaned into the punch, trying to ignore the feel of his hands and feeling more powerful this time. "Perfect," he said, letting his hands linger for just a moment and then letting go.

"Yes!" I said in triumph, smiling widely and almost jumping up and down.

"Now we can do more self-defense moves," he said, also smiling. "I'll spar with you."

We moved to a more empty part of the bunker, and we pulled out some padded gloves, mostly for my sake. He faced me, putting his fists up. "Alright, so, I'm your attacker."

"Ooh," I mocked, "I'm being 'attacked' by the famous _John Connor_." I gave him a wry smile, putting up my fists and jumping back and forth on the balls of my feet like a boxer.

"Yeah, you are, and I'll knock you on your ass if you don't watch out," he mocked back, also smiling.

"Try me."

"If you insist," he sighed sarcastically.

Then a few things happened at once. First, when I was expecting a punch and still bouncing on the balls of my feet, John wrapped a foot around my ankle. Then he pulled it out from under me and I lost my balance. At the same time I yelped and said, "John, I was just kidding!", thinking he was actually going to let me fall. But before I even finished my sentence, he caught me by the waist, laughing, and I grabbed onto his arms, still unaware of him catching me.

Then, rather awkwardly, we stayed in that position for a moment, me leaning back mid-fall and holding him, and him leaning forward and holding me. Not just me, but my waist. He let go, putting me down gently on the ground as I let go of him. Our faces became flushed. He cleared his throat to ease the awkwardness and said, "I've never really taught before, but let's go with this," he said, holding out a hand and helping me up. "Rule number one: expect the unexpected." I rolled my eyes and smiled.

...

(John's perspective)

John was very excited to start training Paige. They went down to the bunker after breakfast, and she tied her hair back. John took off his camouflage jacket.

They started with throwing a punch, since it seemed like a good place to start. John showed her ways to hold her fist and ways to stand, and once she was comfortable, demonstrated a punch on the punching bag. When he did, he could've sworn he saw her not just watching him, but gawking at him. She tried, and he corrected the form of her arm. Then she did it again, and he told her she wasn't leaning into it enough.

This part was fun for John. Even though it wasn't totally necessary, he said that he'd show her, and got behind her and told her to punch. The second her arm began to move, he put his hands on her shoulders. He thought he felt her take in a sharp breath, and she didn't object to any of it. She just punched, correctly this time, and he let his hands linger for a moment. Then she smiled, victorious.

Next came more of the self-defense, hand-to-hand combat type of stuff. He said, "I'm your attacker." Then she mocked and, when he mocked back, she challenged him. So, of course, he did something that would be unexpected and probably make her regret mocking him.

He put a foot around her ankle and pulled it forward, making her fall backwards. She yelped and said, "John, I was just kidding!" Not going to let her to actually fall, he caught her by the waist, and he laughed. He couldn't help it. She grabbed onto his shoulders. Then they stayed like that, for a moment, and he liked holding her. But he had to put her down, so he did, and their faces flushed a bit. He mentioned that he'd never taught before as he helped her up. He said, "but let's go with this. Rule number one: expect the unexpected." She rolled her eyes at the cheesy reference, and they both smiled.

...

(Paige's perspective)

"I'll try," I replied to his first rule, "but maybe I should learn how to stop the expected, you know, before the unexpected."

"Right," he said, "I'll slow down." He grinned at me, a kind of cocky grin, like he'd won a bet. "For now," he added.

He taught me how to block basic moves, like punches and kicks to my face and abdomen and legs. Then he showed me counterattacks, so I could maybe do some damage myself. Then he showed me how to attack him, and what to do if he tried to block me.

It was fun to spar, and since I wasn't very strong or good at fighting yet I could actually try to hit John. He couldn't do that to me, though, because I was obviously not quite ready for that.

Then he taught me how to escape grabs. "Grab my wrists," he instructed, and I did. Then he said, "Now watch." He twisted his hands up and over mine, then pulled away from me.

"Okay, your turn," he said, and he grabbed my wrists. I didn't like the feeling, remembering yesterday and my fear. I just kind of stared at my wrists. John noticed, so he let go and said, "This is how you fight back, by gaining control of the situation," like he was reading my mind. When John was serious, I noticed, it was like he was a whole different person.

I nodded and he grabbed my wrists again. I repeated his motions, freeing my wrists from his grasp. I smiled, feeling like I did have more control. "Good," he said.

Then John turned around and reached his wrists out behind him, once again telling me to grab them. I did and he taught me the motions again, twisting his hands outward and pulling them forward. I turned around and he grabbed my wrists, and I tried repeating the motion. I did something wrong, or wasn't strong enough, because when I tried to pull forward I couldn't get out. "Sorry," he said, "I was just wanted to see if you could get out of a tighter grasp."

"Wait," I said, and I turned around as he let go, "you mean you were going easy on me? Just earlier, when I thought I got out?"

"Well, yeah," he shrugged.

"Oh," I said, frowning and feeling less in control. If I couldn't get out of John's grasp, then whose grasp could I get out of, a little kid's?

"Hey," he said, "you'll get there. I mean, you just started today. No one's expecting you to be able to escape their grasp and kick their ass the first day. We've got plenty of time."

"Okay," I said, shaking it off. "Let me try again." He grabbed my wrists again and, his grip lighter this time, I was able to escape. Then we did arm grabs, and that was pretty fun. I got to hold his arms back as he showed me how to escape the grab, then he did the same to me. And so it continued, with arm grabs, wrists grabs, and even a hair grab.

"How's your balance?" he asked when we were ready for leg grabs.

"Good, maybe?" I replied.

"Well, let's try and see what happens." He smiled and told me to grab his ankle when he kicked. I did, and he showed me how to escape. Then the same happened to me when I kicked, and I was able to stay upright, surprisingly. I escaped and smiled triumphantly again, even if he was going easy on me.

"Okay, I'm ready," I said, after we finished the leg grab.

"For what?" he asked, smiling.

"To knock _you_ on _your_ ass," I said, grinning mischievously.

"Try me," he mocked, attempting to copy my voice. I tried to hit him, still wearing the padded gloves, but he dodged it.

"Damn," I said, and he grinned. I then tried a kick, but he only grabbed my ankle. I ended up escaping, and then I tried to hit him again. I got one in, but then he grabbed my wrist, just strong enough that I couldn't escape, and smiled evilly.

"Ready?" he said, and before I could ask "For what?" he ducked down and wrapped his arms around my legs. I shouted, oddly excited from curiosity but frightened nonetheless, as he picked me up and put me over his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around my torso, still holding my legs.

"John!" I exclaimed. "Holy shit, John! Ah!" I shrieked as he then spun around, making me yell and laugh uncontrollably. I grabbed on to the back of his shirt, holding on for dear life.

He stopped spinning and said, in a very mocking tone, "And John is victorious! The crowd goes wild! _John! John! John!_" He made fake crowd-cheering noises, which made me laugh even more. He ran around the room, still making the noises and pretending to greet his "fans". I couldn't stop laughing, both from the excitement and the silliness, and eventually he was laughing with me. He dropped his shoulders every once in a while, letting go of me and almost letting me fall. I would shriek, and he would laugh. I could tell he was enjoying himself. Admittedly, I was too.

Eventually, when I was out of breath and dizzy, I said, "Okay, put me down." He put me down, plopping my feet onto the ground and raising his head back up. He rested his hands on my arms to keep me balanced as I almost fell over from laughing and dizziness. "You," I said, pausing to stop myself from laughing more, "are the worst." I smiled wide.

He smiled back, saying, "I do try." I swatted his arm and rolled my eyes.

We went on to rifles. I'd only really learned to shoot the handguns, so learning rifles was exciting. As usual, he told me the name and how to load it.

"Remember," he said, "it's got even more of a kick this time." I nodded and got ready. John came up behind me and held the rifle, ready to catch it if I couldn't control the kick. I shot and missed, hitting just to the left of the paper target. "I'll help you," he said, for what I could've sworn was the fourth time today. He did that when we sparred, touching my shoulders and arms, getting close to me.

He, once again, came so close to me that his chest was on my back and I could feel his breath. Not like I was complaining, though. Chills rushed down my spine, noticeably this time. Because of the closeness, I both heard and felt John laugh. He reached around me and shot the gun for me, which pushed me back into him. "Why are you laughing?" I asked.

"Because," he said, "whenever I help you, you do something like that."

"Something like what?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Shiver, tense up," he replied.

"I do not," I said, as if it was preposterous.

"Oh really?" he questioned, and he put his hands on my shoulders. I did accidentally tense up. I felt my face grow red and hot with embarrassment. "Then why'd you do that just now?" he asked.

"I... it tickles," I said, still holding onto the rifle.

"Yeah," he said sarcastically, "sure."

"Well..." I said, trying to find a way to pin it on him, "why'd you put your hands there in the first place?"

"At first I was helping you shoot," he said, clearly making up his own excuses, "and then I was proving a point."

"Yeah, sure," I mocked. "You were 'helping,'" and I made air-quotes.

"John! Paige! Come and eat!" we heard Sarah call from upstairs. It was lunch already. We had been down here longer than I thought.

"Damn," I said, "I guess time does fly when you're shooting shit with a rifle." John laughed, and backed away from me. I followed him upstairs.

"Hey, when we're done eating I can show you how to ride a dirt-bike," John said, "if you want." I thought about that for a moment. It would be fun, learning something new, getting fresh air, going outside... going outside. I would have to go out of the house, which, the last time I did so, got me kidnapped. I tried to swallow my fear.

"Um, sure," I said finally, putting the actual thought out of my head. We went and sat down at the table. Sarah made us some sandwiches. I'd never really seen the motherly side of her very much, so when she did things like this it was kinda cool. It felt like I was witnessing something rare, like a gorilla having a tea party or a deer smashing a brick to pieces.

We ate, telling Sarah about the things we did and the progress I made. "Good," she said after hearing every stride. I felt proud of my work, even if it wasn't much.

Finally, when we finished, John said, "Ready? Let's go," and I nodded and followed him into the other room near the door. He opened it and stepped outside, but I was hesitant. "C'mon," he said like it was no big deal. It shouldn't have been, but to me it was.

"Um," I said, coming up with an excuse, "on second thought, I have a lot of homework. Maybe I shouldn't."

"Can't you do it tomorrow or something?" he asked. Damn.

"Well, I..." I said, trying to not act nervous but failing. _You're being stupid,_ I thought, _just go outside. It's no big deal. There's no one out there. Just go outside._

"Are you okay?" John asked. "You look like you're gonna pass out or something."

"I..." I said, taking a deep breath. "Can we bring a gun?" I asked. "Just in case."

"Is this about yesterday?" he asked. I nodded and looked away. Why was I ashamed of this? I had felt cowardly, and I felt like I was never brave. I felt like John could see that, Sarah could see that, everyone could see that. I felt like I was the only one, and I felt that way a little too much.

Wordlessly, John came inside and went and grabbed a handgun. When he came back he said, "It'll be okay, you know. Nobody's gonna let that happen to you twice."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "Let's just go ride some dirt-bikes. I'll be fine." I said that last part more to myself than to John.

"Alright," he said, and went outside. I followed. I looked around for a minute, still slightly frightened, but once I saw that no one else was around I relaxed. I followed John to the garage at the side of the house, and he pulled out an orange dirt-bike.

"Is this the same one from the movie?" I asked. "I mean, the same one you had before?"

"Nah," he said, "I gotta new one. The other one was trashed, remember? But they kinda look the same."

"Ah," I said. John hopped on and kick-started it. It wasn't as loud as I expected.

"Hop on," John said. I suddenly realized that I would be sitting behind John, and would probably be holding onto him.

I hopped on behind him. I wasn't bold enough to get too close to him yet. "So," I said, "How fast is this thing gonna –"

He quickly started moving, and I almost fell off. I yelped and latched onto John, somehow taking it into my head to wrap my arms around his waist. "Shit, sorry," he said, "I forgot to tell you to hold on." He looked back at me and smiled. "Looks like you already did." I was slightly afraid, but mostly excited, and also a bit embarrassed. I had no idea why I wrapped my arms where I did, but I guess he didn't care. I was actually glad he didn't care. That way I could keep my arms there.

I smiled back, saying, "This is awesome! I feel like I'm going to fall off, but this is awesome!"

"You used to it yet?" he asked.

"Almost," I replied.

"Cool, I'll go faster," he said.

"This thing can go _faster_?"

"A lot faster," he said. "Hold on." He sped up, quite a bit, and I held on for dear life, wrapping my arms tighter around him.

"Holy shit," I said. "Now _this_ is awesome!" John laughed.

He turned the bike and said, "Okay, wanna see something cool?"

"Yeah."

"Hold on again," he said, and he did a wheelie. I hugged him tighter and said, "Whee!" John laughed again.

He slowed down and stopped the bike, letting me get off and then hopping off himself. "Wanna try?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, slightly nervous.

I hopped on, and before John followed he pointed to some parts of the dirt-bike and showed me how to kick-start it. He hopped on, and I got the bike running. "Okay," I said, "hold on."

I started moving, and the moment I did, John held on by putting his hands on my waist. He was, of course, used to the speed, so he didn't hold on so tightly as I'd done before. But his hands were on my waist. I inhaled, not used to the feeling. And yet, it was... nice. I got used to it and relaxed, trying to focus again. I could've sworn he flexed his fingers.

I regained my focus and sped up, feeling a rush of adrenaline. I was ecstatic. The rush, the feel of the wind in my hair, the speed, it was all so liberating. I didn't dare try a wheelie, so I turned, eventually slowing to a stop. John slid his hands off of my waist and I got off, smiling.

"That was _amazing_!" I said. "Why didn't you tell me that it was so fun before?"

"I guess I never thought to," he replied, smiling back. "But I'm glad you like it."

"I don't just like it, I love it!" I said. "Let's go again."

...

(John's perspective)

John felt bad for Paige, and how she felt powerless. But with any luck, he'd teach her how to feel powerful again.

Then she thought she was ready to knock _him_ on _his_ ass. She was better this time, but it only ended with him picking her up over his shoulder. She grabbed onto his shirt and he teased her, spun her around, and pretended to drop her. They both had a good laugh.

When they moved on to rifles, John did something bold, coming quite close to her and helping her shoot the gun. She shivered, reminding him of before and making him laugh. "Why are you laughing?" she'd asked. He teased her again, putting his hands on her shoulders. She became noticeably embarrassed, but teased him back this time. He could tell that she lied, saying it was only because it tickled, and he lied, saying it was only because he was helping her.

But that wasn't it. John just wanted to be close to her. He used to, like almost every boy in the world at that age, think that girls were gross. But now... now he'd even wanted to _kiss_ Paige. He'd look at her some days, when she was dressed in some way or just looked nice, and all he wanted to do was lean over and plant his lips on hers. He'd never felt that way before, with anyone.

And he was afraid, afraid she didn't like him back. Afraid that even though they were supposed to get married, that because the future wasn't set and she knew about it, they'd accidentally rewritten it and they weren't going to end up with each other. Afraid they wouldn't even get a short moment of being together.

At these times, he thought to himself, _Jesus, you're acting like such a dork..._ Normally he was bold, cocky, rebellious. But now he could only push it just far enough to not quite spell out his true thoughts.

Even though Paige acted like she liked him even a little, he still wasn't sure.

They were going to go and ride John's dirt-bike after lunch, but she hesitated and wanted to bring a gun. John knew it was about earlier, and didn't question it. He just got the handgun and they went outside.

Then they went on the dirt-bike. Paige was behind John and, almost on purpose, he started the bike in the middle of her sentence, hoping she would latch onto him. She did, on his waist. He smirked to himself, knowing she wouldn't fall, but apologized anyways.

He showed off a bit, and then it was her turn. John got on the bike behind Paige after showing her how to start it. He made another bold move and put his hands on her waist after she started moving. She inhaled and he was scared for a moment, but she said nothing and eventually relaxed. Then he smiled to himself.

She was so happy, which made John happy too, and wanted to go again. They did several more times, switching places every once in a while, and went inside when the sun went down.

After dinner, John thought to himself. He thought about how fun this day was, the closeness and excitement and fun. And he remembered the slightly cocky moves he made. He remembered moments of wanting to kiss her, though brief, and wanting to tell her his feelings. _Ugh, you're such a girl,_ he said to himself, both at the thoughts of his feelings and the thoughts of his cowardice.

If only he was as brave with Paige as he was in his thoughts.

...

**[A/N: Alright, I know it was a long chapter that started and ended in a slightly awkward place, but I liked it. I mean, the closeness, the love... c'mon, that's what this story's about! For a while, it's mostly going to be John and Paige's relationship, but we'll hopefully get back to some action later.**

**Once again, please please _please_ review!]**


	10. Chapter 10-The R Word

**[A/N: Sorry about the wait, but we're not done yet. Promise! Enjoy this chapter, it gets good...]**

...

(John's perspective)

That night, Paige had come to John's room again. "It just feels so real, you know?" she said once she calmed down. "The dreams. Well, the nightmares. And I never know they're happening. I can't ever control them, and it's so terrifying."

"I used to have nightmares," John said, thinking back. "More like weird, vivid dreams."

"About what?" Paige asked.

"Really weird stuff in the future," he replied. "It would be stuff we would do on a normal day, like have lunch or something, but there were terminators doing it with me. And they were only what I imagined they looked like, since I hadn't seen one before. And they were _nice_."

"See, I want dreams like that. Not my shitty ones. I always feel like I'm forgetting some part of the dream. It feels really important, but I can't remember what it is. Ugh."

"I hate that feeling," John said. Paige seemed to be thinking for a moment.

"Do you ever... miss that time when things were... well, kinda normal for you? Not your normal, but society's normal, sorta. When you thought you didn't have to be the leader of the Resistance."

John thought back to the time when Sarah was in the hospital. "It was cool to not have to think about it for a while," he said. "But everything else sucked."

"I know you didn't see your mom, and you had to go to school and live with different people, but other than that, did you like it?"

He thought again. "Yeah, there's some stuff I miss, I guess."

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like not training all the time. And going to school was pretty boring, but at least I had a couple of friends. It was fun ditching and going to the arcade." He laughed, thinking about the days he ditched with Tim. "Actually, it was only really Tim," he said, thinking again. "Everyone else thought I was a freak."

"Don't say that," she said. "You weren't a freak."

"I was," he said. "Nobody wanted to talk to the weird foster kid whose mom was in a mental hospital."

"I would've talked to you."

"No, you wouldn't have."

"Well, if I didn't, it wouldn't be because you were a freak," she said. "It'd probably be because I was too shy. I kinda thought you were this popular bad-boy, and I didn't have many friends either."

"Really? I would've pegged you differently. I kinda imagined you as the popular, super-smart type. But you're not wrong, I just wasn't popular."

Paige laughed. "You're not wrong either," she said. "Picture that type of person, but they care less about the way they look and have less friends."

"Ah, I get it. You were the smart kid, the only one who got an A on that hard test."

She looked away. "What? I like school."

John laughed. "It wasn't an insult."

"Well, people acted like it was this big deal. They basically blamed their grades on me."

"I didn't really do that type of thing, but I was always kinda jealous. I always felt really stupid. I still feel kinda stupid."

"You're one of the smartest people I know, John. It's just that the way schools measure it doesn't show it."

"Thanks," John said. No one besides his mom had ever really thought he was smart. He smiled.

"I feel like I'm never gonna be 'normal' again," Paige said. "I guess I might miss it, but I guess I don't really care either. Like you said, there's stuff I miss, but it wasn't as fun." She laughed again.

"Yeah," John said. There was silence again, and he realized Paige had fallen asleep. He thought about her. She was so nice to him, whenever she talked to him it almost always made him smile. He wanted to make her as happy as she was making him. Yet John felt that that could only happen if she knew his real feelings.

_God, just be a man already,_ he thought to himself. He fell asleep.

...

(Paige's perspective)

No matter what I did, I couldn't figure out that part of my dream. It seemed important, if it was actually there at all, and every time I had the dream I tried to remember it. But it just wouldn't stick.

John was so nice to me. We talked about whatever, and he always seemed to care. Whenever he talked to me it almost always made me smile. I wanted to make him as happy as he made me, but I felt like I could only do that if he knew my feelings. I had no idea how to say it to him, or if I should, or if I was ready to...

I ended up deciding to talk to Sarah. This made me completely nervous, since it was her son and a kind of weird situation, but in a way I was her daughter now. Then that thought made it all a bit weirder. Yet who else was I supposed to talk to?

"Sarah, can I talk to you?" I asked after dinner that evening.

"Uh, sure," she said. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said, "but can we... talk in private?" She nodded and gestured back to her room, where she shut the door and sat on the bed.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing, I just..." I said, sitting down next to her. I grew anxious. "I... I like..."

"John, I know."

"What?" I said.

"I know that you like my son."

"Um, how did you –"

"A mother always knows."

"Vague, but I'll take it," I said, rolling my eyes. "So... I kinda want to tell him, but I don't really know how."

"What do you mean, 'how?' There's not many ways to say 'I like you.'"

"Well, yeah, but it's the words _around_ those that make it... Look, can I just have some advice please? Isn't that what 'a mother always knows' how to give?"

She laughed. "That is my advice. Don't beat around the bush, just say it when it seems appropriate. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I don't know, I ruin our friendship and have to spend years in an awkward situation with another person in the same house, maybe."

"But do you _really_ think that'll happen? He's obviously crazy about you."

"Really?" I asked hopefully. "But... what if he's just, like, crazy about our friendship only?"

"I guess you'll have to find out," she said.

"Well, thanks," I said. I gave her a light hug and went outside her room. I wasn't gonna tell him yet, though. I wanted to wait for a good opportunity.

...

(John's perspective)

John had to tell Paige. He wanted to, so badly, but he just didn't know how. So he decided to talk to his mother, of all people. _This'll be fun,_ he thought sarcastically to himself.

He found her in her room. "Hey, mom," John said. "Can we talk? I need some advice."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Sure."

He sat down on the bed next to her. "I like Paige," he said. He knew he could be blunt with her, since she didn't ever really say anything that wasn't direct. Sarah laughed. "What?" he said.

"I can tell," she said. "You think I don't know you're always looking at or putting your arm around her?"

John's face flushed. "Well... I wanna tell her. Any advice?"

"Just tell her, when you think it's the right opportunity. No sense in beating around the bush." He agreed with her on that one.

"But..." he said, "what if she doesn't... like me back?"

"Then you're still friends," she said. "She's obviously crazy about you. The worst thing that could happen isn't what you think it is."

"Well... okay. Thanks, mom." He left the room. He was going to tell her, but only when it was the right time.

...

(Paige's perspective)

After I talked to Sarah, it made me really think about me and John. I was really nervous about telling him, in case he didn't think of me in the same way I thought about him. However, I was really excited for the thought of him feeling the same way. It made me curious about what would happen. Would he tell me he liked me? Better yet, would he kiss me? God, I wanted him to kiss me.

That thought made me think: I'd never kissed anyone before. What if John had, and I seemed like an idiot who didn't know how to kiss?

I stopped my train of thought. I was getting ahead of myself, I hadn't even told him anything yet. Speaking of, how would I tell him? Should I just say it, like Sarah said, or should I do some sort of gesture? Would he even like some silly gesture? I knew I would, but I hadn't thought this through, and I was starting to sound like some obsessed, love-struck teen girl.

My friend Rachel used to try to get me to flirt with guys, but I'd protested. I told her I didn't know how to flirt, which was true. Then she told me ways to do it. She'd said, "Always talk about him. Everyone's favorite subject is themselves. Find some of his interests and make them your interests. Talk about them with him, and then do something like playing with your hair. Touch his arm. Before you know it he'll be asking you out." Only I never worked up the courage to start.

I missed her. But I also thought that, in this situation, that was one of the stupidest ideas ever. I already knew John, and if I acted like that he'd probably think I had fallen on my head.

I went to my room and flopped back onto my bed. This was harder than Sarah made it sound. But maybe it didn't have to be.

...

(John's perspective)

After John had talked to Sarah, it made him think hard about himself and Paige. He was nervous about telling her his feelings, in case she didn't think of him the same way as he thought of her. But he was excited for the thought of her feeling the same way. It made him curious about what would happen. Would she say she liked him? Would he get to kiss her, finally? He really wanted to kiss her.

That made him think: he'd never kissed anyone before. What if Paige had, and he seemed like some inexperienced guy who didn't know how to kiss?

John stopped thinking. He was getting ahead of himself. He hadn't even told her anything. Speaking of, how would he tell her? Should he be direct, like Sarah said, or should he do some sort of gesture? Would she even like a gesture like that? John thought that he might. He hadn't thought this through, and he was starting to sound like some weird, unrealistic guy from a crappy rom-com.

He used to try flirting with girls through much encouragement from Tim, but he was never really good at it. He shot that idea down before it fully came into view. Besides, Paige would probably think he had a fever if he started flirting with her.

John had heard Paige go to her room and plop down on the bed. Her door was open. To him, it was harder than Sarah made it sound. But maybe it didn't have to be. He built up his courage and went to her room.

...

(Paige's perspective)

John came into my room, lightly knocking on the door frame and saying, "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," I said, sitting up, "but I don't wanna be."

"Tell me about it." He sat down next to me. Maybe this was the right time. What the hell?

"John, I –"

"Paige," he said, cutting me off, "I'm gonna say something and I need you to listen to the whole thing, okay?" I didn't think he heard me speak. I decided it could wait and nodded.

"Sure, what's up?" I said.

"I... I like you, Paige," he said. My heart instantly fluttered when he said those words. I was shocked. He liked me, and said it almost at the same time I was going to. But I told him I would let him finish, so I didn't talk yet. "Not just as a friend, but... but more than that. So... that's it, I guess." He stared at me, since I guess I still had a shocked expression on my face. His face flushed. "I –"

I didn't want him to be embarrassed, and I realized I didn't tell him I felt the same way yet. So I did something really brave, and slightly out of character.

I leaned over and, in the middle of his sentence, kissed John right on the lips. I took in the moment of my first kiss, closing my eyes. John seemed shocked at first, like I was with my impulsive actions, but after a moment he leaned into it. I liked kissing more than I thought I would. The feel of his mouth against mine was nice, and I could feel what felt like electricity dancing between us.

After about six seconds or so, I pulled away, opening my eyes. John opened his eyes and then smiled. I smiled back. "In case you can't tell," I said, "I like you too."

...

(John's perspective)

John sat down next to Paige. He had just built up his courage, and figured, _What the hell? I'm gonna do it now._

So before he could chicken out, he said, "Paige, I'm gonna say something and I need you to the whole thing, okay?" It sounded like he interrupted her, but he was trying to say what he had in mind before he lost his courage, so he let it pass. She seemed to think it could wait too.

She nodded and said, "Sure, what's up?"

He took in a breath and mentally prepared himself. "I..." he began. _You can do this,_ he said to himself. "I like you, Paige." He kept looking at her as much as he could. "Not just as a friend, but... but more than that." He wanted to make it clear. "So... that's it, I guess." _Good job,_ he thought, _you did it, you blabbering idiot._

John looked at Paige intently, scanning her face for emotion. All he comprehended was shock, and it was hard to tell if that was a good or bad thing. He was going to say, "I'm sorry, I just needed to say that." But before he even got to "sorry," something amazing happened.

Paige leaned over and kissed John right on the lips. _Holy shit,_ he thought at first, _this is... awesome._ He closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, getting over his shock. He enjoyed the moment of his first kiss. He noted the softness and fullness of her lips, which he liked. He felt like there was some sort of charge between them, connected by the kiss.

After about six or so seconds, she pulled away. John opened his eyes after a second and smiled. Paige was smiling too. "In case you can't tell," she said, "I like you too."

"Damn, at least buy me dinner first," he joked, grinning. She swatted his arm.

Now John was overjoyed. So he did something bold.

John's face turned serious as he slowly leaned over towards Paige. Her face became serious too, and this had a longer buildup, John feeling her breath against his face. Then he kissed her, and this kiss lasted a few seconds longer. John took one of Paige's hands in his and pulled away. Her eyes were closed, and she slowly opened them and smiled, gently squeezing his hand. "You have no idea how much I wanted to do that," he said.

"You have no idea how much I wanted you to do that," she replied. He smiled.

"Ugh, _finally,_" Sarah said suddenly, walking into the doorway. "You've only been staring at each other non-stop."

"Mom!" John shouted, his face turning red. He and Paige scooted away from each other. Sarah snickered.

"Alright, alright," she said, sticking her hands in the air. She left, and as soon as John couldn't hear her anymore, he got up and shut the door.

"I'm... sorry," he said to Paige, his face slowly returning to normal color.

"It's fine," she said. She cleared he throat. Her face had been red, but was also returning to normal.

"I _knew_ I shouldn't have asked her for advice," John said under his breath.

"What?" she said. "When?"

"Around... well, it was just before I came and talked to you."

"Was she already in her room?" Paige asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I think I talked to her before you talked to her. To be honest, I was just about to... to tell you, but you sorta interrupted me."

"Oh. Sorry," he said. Then he realized. "Wait a minute, so she... knew we liked each other and didn't tell either of us?"

"I mean, I guess. She sorta hinted at it."

John laughed. "Well, I guess it turned out okay."

Paige laughed too. "More than okay."

...

(Paige's perspective)

He liked me. John fucking Connor liked me, and he _kissed_ me. Well, I kissed him first, which was fun... but he kissed me. He was looking into my eyes, and I could feel his breath against my face, and he kissed me. And held my hand. Then Sarah came in, of course. We pulled away and it ended with John shutting the door on her.

Apparently, Sarah had known we both liked each other at some point, but there was no harm done now.

"So..." John began in a curious tone, "are we... dating now, or something?"

"Is that your way of asking me out?" I asked. "Because we're not really dating until we've, you know, been on a date." I grinned at him.

"Oh, yeah... Sorry. I've never really done something like this before."

"Really? I kinda thought... I mean, I haven't really either."

"Oh. Well, that's cool. We're each other's first date. Speaking of, here it goes." John turned more towards me and looked in my eyes after rolling his. "Paige, do you wanna go out with me?" He gave me a cheesy smile, throwing up jazz hands.

"John, I would love to," I said, now grinning like an idiot and laughing.

"Cool," he said. He seemed to think a moment. "Shit, now I have to think of something for us to do."

I laughed. "You don't really," I said. And he didn't. I'd always imagined what my first date would be like, though. Maybe that was a girl thing. But if he didn't want to actually do a _date_ date...

"No," he said, "I want to." It was like he was reading my mind at this point. He smiled at me. "I think it'd be fun. We could be kinda... normal, for a while. Have a real date. A normal date. At least more normal than shooting guns and riding dirt-bikes."

I laughed. "Well, yeah. But I did really like that. It felt bad-ass."

John laughed. "So, how about... tomorrow? Is that too early?"

"I dunno, is it? You're the one who has to think of stuff to do, apparently."

"What, do you want to?" he asked.

"Oh, no. I'd probably over think it," I said.

"How?"

"You'd be surprised," I said. John laughed.

"Okay, so tomorrow. What's a good time?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've always heard seven. I guess it depends on what you plan." I wiggled my eyebrows.

"How does six sound? I think that works for what I'm thinking."

"Sure," I said. "Ugh, now I'm curious." John smirked and pretended to lock his mouth and put away the key. "Wait, does that mean you've thought of it?" I asked. He shrugged his shoulders. I smiled. "Aw, come on. Give me a hint."

John pretended to fish out the key and spoke. "If I give you a hint, it'll ruin the surprise."

"Oh, fine," I said in defeat. "At least tell me what I should wear."

"I can't tell you. Just be ready for anything."

"Even skydiving?" I asked sarcastically.

"The world may never know," he replied. "No really, just wear what you usually would."

"Alright." I smiled. "I'd be happy with whatever, you know."

John smiled back at me. "I know."

...

(John's perspective)

John was excited to plan a date with Paige. It made him feel normal, and it gave him a chance to surprise Paige. And while he did kind of have something in mind, and he said so to make her more curious, it was only a picture in his head. The truth was he didn't actually have a real plan.

Yet John really, _really_ wanted to surprise Paige. He wanted to watch her expressions as she saw what he did for their date, and he wanted to see the fun she would have and how happy it would make her.

_You're being so... so..._ he thought, _romantic. Yuck._

_ But at least Paige'll be happy..._

He'd overheard some classmates talking about dates they'd gone on once. He'd heard things he couldn't really afford or would like to do. He couldn't afford a fancy restaurant, and he didn't think either of them would enjoy going bowling.

John thought about something he could do. He had heard one idea he'd liked: a drive-in movie. But how the hell would he do that? He couldn't drive, and he was most certainly not going to have someone else sit in the car with them.

He also heard picnic. He could do that, but that would be short. Maybe he could do that and a movie? _Jesus,_ he thought, _this takes more work than I thought._ But he was determined to do something, _something_ enjoyable.

...

(Paige's perspective)

The whole next day, all I thought about was six o'clock. I was nervous, excited, and pretty curious.

At around five, I decided to get ready. I'd never done something like this before. I knew I was supposed to wear what I usually do, but –and this was the girly, about-to-go-on-a-date part of me –I wanted it to be special. I wanted to look nice, but not dressed up.

I didn't want to look out of place. So I ended up wearing something I usually would, which was basically jeans and a black top. I guess it did end up looking sort of nice, but not out of the ordinary. I let my hair down and, for a finishing touch, put on some lip gloss. _Damn,_ I thought, _I'm being girly as hell right now. Oh, w__hatever__._

It only took me half an hour, and then I sat in my room impatiently. Finally six rolled around, and I was just about to go into the hall when John knocked on my door.

I opened it and he said, "Ready?"

"As ever," I replied. I took in a deep breath. Now that I was thinking about it, why was I nervous? I already knew John. It's not like I was trying to impress him. On second thought, maybe I was. Just a bit.

John said, "Alright, I just got this ready. I hope you like it." He smiled. I grew curious as to what "this" was. "And I almost forgot, here," he said, handing me a petunia.

I smiled widely. "John, it's beautiful," I said, smelling the purple flower. "Thank you, that's so sweet. I'm gonna leave this in my room until we get back, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," he said. I placed it on my dresser and went back out into the hallway.

John led me outside. "Where are we going?"

"On a walk to... destination number one," he said. I smiled.

"Cool." We walked outside and down and off the street, away from other houses. There was a slightly secluded place, with a blanket laid out and a basket. "Aw," I said, smiling more.

"My mom helped me set it up," he said. "After teasing me, of course." I laughed. "Here, sit." I sat down and he followed. He opened the basket, which had some sandwiches and lemonade inside.

"John, this is awesome," I said. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"You'd be surprised," he said, much like I had the day before.

As we began to eat, we talked about random things about each other that we didn't really know before. "I guess we don't know some weird things," I said. "Like, what's your favorite color?"

"Hmm," John said, thinking. "I guess I'd have to say... blue? I don't really have one."

"I've always kinda liked yellow," I said. "I guess that's my favorite."

"How about... favorite food?" John asked.

"Well, apparently since I was like, four, I have always _loved_ oranges. I still do, but I think then I just liked the thought of ripping something apart and getting food."

John laughed. "I'm more of an apple guy myself. But whatever, we have watermelon."

Now I laughed. It continued like this for a while as the sun set, until we were finished and John said, "So what's your favorite movie?"

"To be totally honest, it used to be, you know... _those_ movies. Not anymore, though. I guess I need a new one." I felt kind of bad for saying it, because it felt like a weird thing to have done. I watched a major part in John and Sarah's life without actually being there. I wondered how he felt.

"Why?" he asked.

"I... I don't know. I just liked movies like that. My dad would always show them to me. It was kind of our thing, you know?" I paused. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I just wanted to know why, no big deal. So," he said, clearing his throat, "are you ready for destination number two?"

I grinned. "Sure."

"Alright, c'mon," John said. He stood up and offered me his hand, and I took it and stood. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" I said, still grinning.

"Because it summons the destination fairy," he said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and laughed. "I want it to be a surprise."

"Okay," I said, and I closed my eyes. He took my hand and pulled me forward. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Did I not say surprise?" he joked. "You'll see."

"Is it far?"

"It's a _surprise_," John said again. "You're curious a lot, aren't you?"

"Obviously," I said, still being pulled along.

"Are they still closed?" he asked.

"Yes..." I replied. I then opened one eye, only to see John turning around. I quickly shut it again.

"Hey, no peeking," he said.

"Uh huh," I said, trying to sneak another peek just to mess with him. He was already looking and caught me again.

"That's it," he said, and he let go of my hand, went behind me, and put his hands over my eyes. "Are you happy now?"

"Very," I said, smirking and laughing.

"Alright, turn left... wait, back a little... keep going... alright, now straight," were the directions John gave me, unable to lead me with his hands over my eyes. It made it kind of like a game as I followed his direcitons.

"Okay," he said, and after a moment, "just a little further."

"Can I look now?" I asked.

"Not yet." We walked a little further and he stopped me. "Ready?"

"Yes!" I said impatiently.

"Here we go," he laughed, taking his hands away from my eyes.

I saw a white screen, possibly a sheet, hanging up, behind a car that was parked facing towards it. "What's this?" I asked.

"A drive-in," he replied. I smiled wide.

"You did all this?" I asked.

"The big guy helped a lot, but... I guess I did." John sounded proud, and to me, he damn well should have been. His face became a bit flushed. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," I said.

"Well, you'll love it even more when it's running. C'mon." He led me to the car and opened the door for me on the passenger side. All of this made my heart flutter. John, who I've liked for so long, had set up an amazing date for me and was being so –and I hate to use this word –romantic.

He went around to the other side and climbed in. Pulling a small remote out of his pocket, he turned around and pressed a couple of buttons. I noticed we weren't far from the house still. "Hey," I said, "why'd it take so long to get here but we're not even all that far away?"

He smirked. "I basically took us in circles for a while. It was hard not to laugh. But I did surprise you, didn't I?"

I smiled. "Yeah, you did."

"Shh, the movie's starting," he joked, and I swatted his arm. Onto the "screen" came what I recognized as the beginning of _Jurassic Park_.

"I saw parts of this once, when I was little," I whispered.

"Did you like it?" John asked.

"I can't remember, I was little."

"You still are little," he teased, smirking.

"And what, you're not?" I teased back.

"I'm less little than you," he replied.

"I can't disagree, sadly," I said.

"Well I think you'll like it. I always have, anyways."

"Is that why you asked me my favorite movie?" He nodded.

"Why are you whispering?" he asked.

"There's a movie playing," I replied.

"But no one's here," he said.

"Oh. Right." He laughed. As the movie played, my thoughts drifted a little, as they tend to do. I'd heard stories of people on movie dates. The guy would always do the over-the-shoulder move, and the girl would ignore the stupid excuse he created to do it. That would be pretty fun. I'd even seen couples making out in movie theaters before.

I suddenly tensed up, and when I realized I did, I glanced at John to see if he noticed. Thankfully he didn't. I wondered if, by some odd chance, John was planning on... _making out_ with me.

_So what if he does?_ I thought. Then I thought differently. I have never made out with anyone, especially not on a first date. And while John had never been on a date, that didn't necessarily mean he'd never made out with anyone.

The thought scared me. What if it was gross? What if I didn't like it? What if I didn't do it right, or I hurt John, or he didn't like me anymore afterward?

I was worrying now, as I always do, over nothing. I realized he was only sitting there, and hadn't done anything but watch the movie. _Yet,_ I corrected myself, _he hasn't done anything yet._

I, in a way, sort of liked the idea of making out with John. I was certainly attracted to him, and I knew he was a good guy. But I wasn't sure if I was ready. I also didn't know what the hell I would do. I wondered if he would pressure me into it. _No,_ I thought, _he would never –_

John suddenly reached over and took my hand, but I was so startled I practically jumped out of my seat, pulling my hand away.

"Woah, I'm sorry," John said. "I just wanted to hold your hand."

"I... I know," I said, jumping back into reality. "_I'm _sorry, it was my fault."

"Then why'd you jump?" he asked. "It's not that scary, is it? It's only dinosaurs. Or do you not wanna hold my hand?" He frowned, and now I felt bad.

"No, that's not it, I just..." my face flushed, and when I realized how embarrassing my train of thought had just been, I looked down.

"What's wrong?" John asked. _Dammit,_ I thought, _this always happens. __Why does he always need to know why I'm upset? Sometimes it's embarrassing..._

"Nothing," I said.

"I've known you long enough to know that you're lying," he said.

"I'm not lying," I persisted.

"Paige," he said, "you and I both know you can tell me."

"No, it's... really, _really_ just stupid."

"Is it ever _really_ as stupid as you think it is?" he said.

"Well, no, but..." I said, and John tried to take both of my hands into his. I pulled away, saying, "I'm... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm ruining this."

"Paige, for the love of... you're not... just _tell me_."

I took a deep breath and, without looking in his direction, I mumbled, "Did you do this just to try to make out with me?"

"What?" he asked.

"I've heard that guys do that at movies, and I don't know if you would do that, and if that's why you did this movie thing, then I –"

"Paige, listen," John said, stopping me from rambling on. "I don't want to make out with you." He paused. "...I mean, I want to make out with you – no wait, it's not like that, I just..." he breathed out. "I'm not gonna make you do something you don't wanna do. We could just hold hands, if you want. Or not even that. Hell, I'll go sit outside if that makes you –"

"I get it," I said, grinning.

"Well," he said, "did you... want to make out with me? I mean, I don't necessarily want to either, no pressure, but..." his face flushed.

"Um, I've... I've never..."

"Thank god, neither have I," he said.

"Jesus, pause the date," I said, "because we obviously need to talk."

"Don't you mean pause the movie?"

"No, the date. But everything's on hold, so pause the movie too. Please."

John turned around and paused the movie with the remote. "Okay," he said, "I guess we need to figure this out."

"Yeah. So... first of all, are we... too young, do you think?"

"Well, it's just kissing," he said, "and we're both teens. I guess it just depends on if we're ready."

"I guess. So, um... are you ready?" I asked.

"I... I don't know."

"Neither do I."

"I guess that's our answer then," John said. "If we don't even know... we probably shouldn't."

"Listen," I said, coming up with an idea, "when's your birthday?"

"Um, in about... a week, actually, on the twenty-eighth. Why?"

"Well, mine's on the tenth, so by then we'll both be fifteen, right?" I said.

"Right," John responded.

"So we can decide if we're ready then. That way, we'll both be technically older, and we'll have a chance to prepare for it for a while. Sounds good?"

"Yeah," he said. "...But wait, can I... can I still...?"

"Kiss me?" I asked.

"Yeah." His face was a bit red still.

"Sure, just not... you know, what do you call it? No French kissing."

"Agreed," he said. "Can we start the date again?"

"Yes, please. Could you rewind it a bit though? I kind of interrupted," I said.

"Sure." John turned around and used the remote to start the movie back at just before we started talking. "So where were we? Around..." he said, putting an arm around me, "here, I think." I could just tell he was smirking.

"Sounds about right," I said, leaning my head onto his shoulder. He reached his free hand towards mine and we laced our fingers together. My heart was beating loudly with excitement. We enjoyed the movie, sitting just like that, cracking jokes every once in a while.

At the end of the movie, I sat up. John and I got out of the car. "That was really fun," I said.

"It's not over yet," he said to my surprise.

I smiled wide. "Really? There's a destination number three?"

John returned the smile. "Well, sort of. Come on."

"I can keep my eyes open, right?" I teased.

"Fine," he teased back, "but you have to take my hand." I grinned and took his hand as he led me back to the picnic blanket.

"Another picnic?" I joked, still holding his hand.

"Nope," John said, and he sat me down on the blanket next to him. "Okay, lay back."

"Why?"

"C'mon, just do it."

"Why?" I persisted, teasing him again.

"Oh, will you just –?" John said as he reached over and grabbed my shoulders, pushing me down next to him. I laughed with him, both of us laying on the blanket.

"No really though, why?" I asked.

"The stars," he said.

"But they're not out," I responded.

"They're always out," he said.

"Well, _yeah_," I said, "but I can't _see _them."

"Be patient," John said. "You have to wait for your eyes to adjust."

"Have you done this before, Mr. Star Expert?" I joked.

"Once, actually. We happened to be outside and I realized that you'll see them eventually."

"Cool." We were quiet for a minute as I saw the stars slowly peek out. I gasped. "You're right. Aw, it's so pretty."

"What, did you think I was lying?" he joked.

"Oh, I would _never_," I joked back.

"Of course you wouldn't," he said, laughing.

"Ooh, I wonder if we'll see a –" I said, and just then, a shooting star danced across the sky. I gasped again, saying, "Oh my god! A shooting star! John, it's a shooting star!" I leaned over and looked at him to get his attention.

"Quick, keep looking and make a wish!" he said. I leaned back again and quietly made a wish, saying to myself, _I wish... that John will always care about me._

"What did ya wish for?" I asked, taking a last glimpse at the shooting star.

"You're not supposed to say," John said, "or it won't come true."

"Please?" I said.

"Oh, fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I wished that you would come closer to me." I knew he was smirking again.

"Oh, fine," I mimicked. I scooched closer to John and lifted my head in the process. He took the opportunity to put his arm underneath my neck, giving me a place to rest it. "See? It came true anyways."

"I guess you proved me wrong. Oh well," he joked. I laughed and smiled. So that his arm was basically cradling my head, his hand was at the top of it, playing with my hair. It made me feel relaxed, and though it was a bit cheesy, it also made me feel loved. "What'd you wish for?"

"Oh, nothing," I said.

"Do I smell smoke?" he asked.

"What?"

"Because I think your pants are on fire." I playfully swatted at John, making him laugh. "No, really. I told you, you tell me."

"It's kinda stupid, but... I wished... that you would always care about me," I said, feeling embarrassed.

"Why would you wish that?" he asked.

"I don't know... I just like this. This... feeling of being cared about, of mattering enough to someone to do all this."

"You liked the date?"

"John, I _loved_ it. I still do. This has been so amazing. With everything you did, my heart would flutter."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. No smoke." We laughed.

"Good, I'm glad," he said. John seemed to be thinking for a moment, almost saying something and then silencing himself a moment later. "Paige?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?" he said, adjusting his head to look at me instead of the stars.

I met his gaze. "Of course."

"You... you really do matter to me. A lot."

"You matter a lot to me too," I said.

John smiled. "Good."

"I swear," I said, "if you keep playing with my hair I'm going to fall asleep right here."

"And?" he said jokingly.

"And we'll freeze, maybe?"

"Good point. Wanna go inside?" he asked.

"Aw, is this the end?" I asked.

"Maybe," John said mysteriously.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I said, sitting up.

"Oh, I don't know," he said, sitting up and not completely answering me. "There'll be more dates anyways, I promise."

I stood up. "Should we just leave this here?" I asked.

"I could just get T to clean it up," John said. He sighed, standing in front of me. "Well, take it all in, it's the last of our first date."

"Our first date," I said, looking around a bit as John slipped a hand into mine. He walked closer, looking down at me. I fixed my eyes on him as, in silence, he began to lean down towards me. "No making out?" I asked.

"No making out," he repeated, his face getting closer to mine as he smiled. His grin faded as he planted his lips on mine. I closed my eyes, taking in the scene and leaning into the kiss. John slipped his other hand into mine and we held hands, kissing. I felt a bit lightheaded for a quick moment. Then, after about ten seconds had gone by, John pulled away. "Is that.." he said, licking his lips and looking up, "strawberry?" I realized he was talking about my lip gloss.

"Um, no," I said, laughing lightly, "I think it's raspberry."

"Nice," John said. We smiled.

...

**[A/N: And it's _still_ not over! Yay! I, for one, loved writing this chapter, and if you loved reading it, then PLEASE REVIEW!]**


	11. Chapter 11-Gifts

**[A/N: Please note that there will be a song later in this chapter. I do not take any credit. The song is "Bloom" by The Paper Kites. If you want, you can listen to the song when it appears, but I have changed some of the lyrics.]**

...

(John's perspective)

John had taken the whole day to plan out this date. He had to go to Sarah for help.

"My little boy's growing up," she had said when he asked, mocking a sit-com type of mom. "But I guess I'll have to help you." She sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically.

He told his mom everything, since to them, there was no need to have something to hide. So she knew about Paige and John dating. And it wasn't like Sarah was surprised. After all, she had seen them kiss.

John finally decided to do a picnic and a drive-in, but he would need the terminator for the second half. Sarah made the food and put it in the basket for him, and he lay out a blanket and put the basket on top. Then he went to talk to the terminator.

"I need you to help me set up a projector," John said.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because... I want to watch a movie."

"Why?" he insisted.

"Because that's what people do, okay? We watch movies for fun, with other people, in cars outside."

The terminator finally agreed and helped him make a home-made makeshift movie projector. John took a white sheet he found and hung it up on a rack he created. The terminator told him that all he would need to do was use a remote to turn the movie on, once he had put it in.

Then came the actual date part. As John was setting it up, he came across a purple flower. He'd heard that people bring flowers to dates, especially first ones. He figured one couldn't hurt. _Why not?_ he

thought as he picked the flower and made his way inside.

John grew slightly nervous. But why was he nervous? He already knew Paige. Then he thought that, maybe, just a little, he was trying to impress her. He wanted to make her happy and show her that he could be... romantic. And while he hated that word, he wanted to be what it meant for Paige.

_You're so sappy,_ he thought to himself.

He knocked on Paige's door, made sure she was ready, and gave her the flower. John had decided that, since he took all the time to plan this, he would try to remember all of her reactions. He noted that she smiled broadly in surprise and called it "sweet."

John led Paige to the picnic. John felt happy, and frankly, quite proud when she said she was smiling so much and called it awesome.

They started asking each other questions, mostly about their favorites, and John took the opportunity to mention movies.

Paige said her favorite used to be... _those_ movies. The ones he was in. He thought for a split second, and thought that it didn't really matter. Without those movies, it would have been quite possible that he wouldn't have even met Paige. So he was thankful for them, at least slightly, and especially let it go when she said they weren't anymore.

John told Paige to close her eyes. He had the feeling that, when she kept opening her eyes, it was only to tease him. But he was only teasing her, walking in circles for a while. When she peeked again, he thought to just cover her eyes himself. He found this fun, especially with her curiosity.

He showed her the drive-in. She seemed really excited, and she said that she loved it. John opened the car door for her, and as he made his way around he noticed she was blushing, looking down, and smiling. _I made her blush,_ he thought. _Holy shit, I did that... and she wasn't even embarrassed. Awesome._

They started the movie, after revealing his trick of making her close her eyes. There was a bit of teasing, mostly by John. He had picked _Jurassic Park, _figuring it was something she would like.

As the movie played, John's thoughts drifted a bit. He was hoping, because of the movie, it would be a stupid excuse to get closer to Paige. Wanting to hold her hand, he drifted his right one towards hers. When he touched her hand she almost jumped out of the car.

John was worried. Was she okay? Did he do that to her?

He apologized, but she started blaming herself. This didn't make sense, and when he questioned if it was the movie, she began to blush furiously and stutter.

John asked if Paige was okay, which she always denied... he knew that. After pressing her, she mumbled something weird.

She asked if he was doing this just to make out with her. "What?" he had said in surprise. She began rambling, like she did when she was nervous, and he stopped her when he realized the issue. Paige was not ready to make out, which made sense by itself, but she had somehow gotten the impression that John was about to make out with her... or at least had the intentions of doing so.

He stuttered a bit over his words, trying to explain to her that it wasn't like that. Then he questioned: was she thinking this because she... thought about making out with John?

John knew that he didn't know if he wanted to make out with Paige. He was certainly attracted to her, and he liked her a lot, but he felt like he wasn't quite ready to.

He didn't feel too young – he'd heard of kids doing worse than making out at a much younger age. But he felt unprepared, and wondered if she was more experienced than him. Sure, she hadn't dated, but that didn't mean she hadn't done something like that necessarily. He also had no idea what the hell he would do.

So, after they talked and they both realized they didn't feel too young, they were both inexperienced, and they were both unsure and thus not ready, they decided to see how they would feel after they both turned fifteen. Which was only in about a month.

They also decided that John could still kiss Paige –just not French kissing. Then they resumed the date, and John had an excuse to pull Paige closer.

After the movie, John had an extra idea. He thought they could go look at the stars.

They went and lied down on the blanket, and John told Paige to look up until she saw the stars appear. He had done this before, when him and Sarah didn't really have anywhere to go but camping. He'd found out that, if they seemed not out, when you stared long enough the stars would come.

A shooting star went by, and Paige became adorably excited. He didn't really make a wish, but when she asked what it was, he made it up. So she went closer to him, and he put an arm out under her neck. He eventually ended up sort of cradling her head, and he subconsciously started playing with her hair. She seemed relaxed and happy.

John asked what she wished for. She said, after a bit of hesitation, that she wished John would always care about her.

He asked why. Why would she wish that? Was she scared of something?

She said it felt nice to be cared about, to feel like she mattered to someone. That the date gave that to her.

John found already that Paige loved the date. And after thinking, he decided to make it clear: she mattered to him a lot.

Then they got up when Paige was getting tired. John stood in front of Paige, telling her to take it in. She did, saying, "Our first date." John did something slightly bold, and began to lean towards Paige. Then, after confirming they were not making out, he kissed her and held her hands. She leaned in, and John felt happy and almost lightheaded. Her lips tasted nice, like some sort of lip balm.

"Is that... strawberry?" he joked, licking his lips.

"Um, no, I think it's raspberry," she replied.

"Nice," he noted, and they both smiled.

They went inside, hand in hand, and went to their respective rooms for the night after saying goodbye. Thankfully they didn't bump into Sarah to subject to her taunting.

Paige knocked at John's door as usual. He invited her in as usual. But this time she hesitated. "I..." she began. "It's... I feel weird now. Like, we're... dating now, I guess, and... I don't even know." She was blushing hard.

"Well... why do you feel weird now?" he asked.

"Um, I guess I kind of feel like... I don't wanna... be all sad, and needy, and annoying, since we're not really _only_ friends anymore."

"Paige," John began, "it doesn't matter. You've done it before, and I care about you, so... it just doesn't matter. And it's not sad, it's not needy, it's not annoying. You're a person, you have fucking feelings, Paige. Who cares? Someone needs to be there for you, and I'm here and I want to be. So come in here and cry if you need to. Or don't. It doesn't matter." He took her hand.

Paige looked up at John. "Thank you," she mumbled, tears welling in her eyes. John invited her in and they slept on the ground, in their usual spot.

...

(Paige's perspective)

I was so grateful for John. He invited me in, and _wanted_ to care for me when I was upset. And the way he looked at me during the date, with those caring, green eyes...

A few days rolled by, and I remembered that John said his birthday was on the twenty-eighth. I wanted to give him something awesome. The only problem was, I had nothing awesome to give him.

I had no money, nowhere to shop, and not quite enough knowledge of his tastes to be able to find something at a store. So I had to think of something to make him.

But I couldn't make shit. I could barely make a card if you gave me supplies, instructions, and another, crafty person's hands. So what the hell was I going to do?

I'd heard experiences were better than objects before. However, I had nothing to let him experience. I couldn't take him anywhere, and if I took him on a date, well... I'd probably mess it up, and I would end up feeling like I couldn't show him a fun time.

Suddenly a thought popped into my head. In movies and books I'd seen guys write songs for their girlfriends, and that was an experience, right? I'd sung before, quite a bit... some people considered me a decent singer. And while it made me nervous, and would require creativity, time to create it, and perhaps an instrument, I was excited at the thought of that. I could write John a song.

God, it seemed so fucking cheesy. But it also felt like the best option for me. And maybe he would actually _like_ the cheesy, romantic song. Ugh... the "R" word again.

So it was decided, in my mind. I was going to write John a song. _Jesus,_ I thought to myself, _this is gonna be difficult._

...

(John's perspective)

John obviously knew that his birthday was coming around soon, and that meant two things: one, the day they decided they would possibly... make out, was closer, and two, Paige would probably try to impress him with something.

He thought he caught her doing something rather secretive in her room, involving lots of paper and a pencil. She then realized John was in the house and stopped whatever she was doing, tucking it away for later. He decided to leave it alone.

Later, on the twenty-eighth, he became slightly excited. More than he had been on previous birthdays. John knew it was pretty silly, but he wanted to see what Paige was doing. It was equal parts curiosity and excitement.

John woke up that day, greeted at the table with a nice breakfast and many "happy birthday" greetings.

After breakfast, Paige was practically jumping for joy with excitement. "I have something for you..." she hinted.

"Oh yeah?" John in mock surprise. "I wouldn't have noticed." He smirked.

"Would it be too early to give it to you now? Or can I show you? Can I, can I, can I?" Paige was mockingly acting like a four-year-old who wanted a new toy.

"Sure, if you don't think it's too early," John commented.

"Yeah, you're right," she teased. "I'll save it for later." Paige smirked at him.

Sarah made a few cupcakes, which everyone thanked her for. Naturally, John couldn't have real parties, since there would be too many people and they didn't need and couldn't afford many gifts. So he was used to things like this, expecting and wanting nothing more.

At the end of the day, after dinner, Paige invited John into her room. "Ready?" she said.

"Yep," he said. Paige sat down on a chair, and John plopped himself down on the end of her bed.

"Alright, this might seem really cheesy, or stupid, but..." Paige said, "I wrote you a song. It seems silly, I know, but I couldn't think of anything better. So... thoughts?"

John smiled. Paige wrote him a song. While it was cheesy, and a bit... _romantic,_ she had done something really heartfelt for him."That's actually really cool, to be honest," John said. "I thought that was something that only happened in movies."

"Well, good luck thinking it's as good as anything in a movie..." she said, pulling out a guitar from under her bed.

"Is that my old guitar?" John asked.

"Um, yeah... I didn't have one, and I knew you did, so I kind of stole it and tuned it up. Is that okay?"

He shrugged. "At least _someone's_ using it." She smiled in return.

"Okay, here it goes... And don't make fun, I'm actually really nervous." Paige was blushing slightly.

John smiled. "Don't be. I won't make fun. Go on."

Paige took in a breath and began to play the guitar. The sound was, in a weird way, slightly enchanting. John liked it.

Then Paige smiled and began to sing. "_In the morning when I wake, __a__nd the sun is coming through, __o__h, you fill my lungs with sweetness, __a__nd you fill my head with you. Shall I write it in a letter? Shall I try to get it down? Oh, you fill my head with pieces __o__f a song I can't get out. Can I be close to you? Ooh, ooh. Can I be close to you? Ooh, ooh._

"_Can it go on 'til the morning, where the sky is painted gold, and the ground is filled with memories of the feelings never told?__ When the evening pulls the sun down, __a__nd the day is almost through, __o__h, the whole world it is sleeping, __b__ut my world is you. Can I be close to you? __O__oh, ooh. Can I be close to you? __O__oh, ooh._" Paige began to hum a bit at this point with the tune. Then the words continued. "_Can I be close to you?__ Ooh, ooh. __Can I be close to you? __Ooh, ooh. Can I be close to you? Ooh, ooh._"

John was entranced at her song. If Paige had wanted to, she probably could have hypnotized him. As she sang, she looked down at the guitar, plucking the strings continuously. She was focused. But her voice still sounded wonderful to John, pretty and light. "Paige," he said, "that was amazing."

She took a deep breath. "Really? You liked it?"

"I loved it. It really described... us," he replied. "And I never knew you knew how to do that. Your voice was so... pretty."

Paige blushed. "Thanks," she said. "I'm really glad you like it. It was kinda the whole point. Happy birthday, John." She smiled widely at him.

"Thanks," John said, returning the wide smile.

...

(Paige's perspective)

Somehow or another I had pulled it off. I planned it, waiting until John was occupied to write and out of the house to practice. I had seen his guitar and decided to use that, thinking back to the lessons I'd taken a few years ago.

I was really proud of myself. But mostly, I was happy that John was happy.

My birthday was then in less than two weeks. I had never had particularly extravagant birthdays in the past, as others I knew had had. I was allowed to have small parties with a few friends. This year, I knew I would be okay and even pleased with next to nothing, and would expect so considering the circumstances.

A few days after John's birthday, I had the same, horrible nightmare. Off to John's room I went.

When I sat down next to him, we began to talk a bit. "I remember my last birthday," I reminisced. "My dad made me breakfast and stuck candles in my pancakes. And my family got me an instant camera. I took so many pictures with that thing." I thought a moment. "Now they're gone. All my pictures. My family..." Another thought popped into my head. I had no pictures of my family now. None. I even had the thought that, just possibly, I would forget what they looked like.

"Paige?" John asked. "Are you still in there?"

"John, what if I forget what my family looks like? I've heard of people whose relatives... died, and later they forgot what they looked like. I don't have any pictures. Oh god, I can't picture them right now, I'm forgetting –"

Tears were springing in my eyes and I began to speak quickly and with urgency. But John stopped me. "No, Paige, you're just upset. I'm sure you'll be able to remember when you calm down."

"What if I don't? What if I won't be able to recognize my parents, even if you showed me a picture? What if even the nightmares get their faces wrong? What if –?"

"Paige, calm down," John said, pulling me towards him. "Please."

My hands began to shake, and I couldn't help but sob. The worry, the fear, and the unknown were all getting to me. Every once in a while things like this happened, when the pain rose up in me again.

"I miss them so much," I said between sobs, hugging myself as John hugged me to control my shaking.

"I know," John said. "Paige, I'm so sorry." I sobbed for a while, and John stroked the back of my head as he held me close. Eventually the crying stopped, and I fell asleep in John's arms, exhausted from the tears.

...

(John's perspective)

John knew he now had to get Paige a gift. Then he scratched that thought, thinking that it sounded like a chore. He _wanted_ to get Paige a gift, so he had to think of something.

Nothing came to mind. He couldn't buy her something, because he didn't have any money or knowledge of her tastes. At least not enough to get her something as significant as he wanted it to be.

A few nights after his birthday, Paige came to John's room again. She worked herself up, worrying that she would forget her family's faces since she had no pictures of them.

It pained John, whenever she came in and cried so hard like that. She was shaking, sobbing, miserable, and the only thing he could do was hold her close and try to calm her down. He stroked the back of her head and soon the sobs passed. Paige was asleep in John's arms, breathing deeply.

John relaxed from holding her so tightly and thought.

Suddenly the most brilliant idea he thought he could ever think of popped into his mind. He wanted to make her happy, and give her a nice gift, and calm her worries. If he could somehow get a picture of her family, that would solve all three things.

He knew Paige's mother used to be in the military. He also knew that, sometimes, there would be photos of military families taken, either for the sake of the family or to promote something or another. Maybe he could start there.

The next day, after school, John went to the library to use the computer. He did some research on Paige's family. _What was her mom's name?_ John thought. _Laura? Lauren? Yes, it was Lauren._ He searched for her name, searched for anything associated with the military, searched for pictures, searched for something resembling Paige's face.

Nothing. Then he tried searching her maiden name. He remembered that it was Jones, and did some more research.

Finally he found something. Just what he was searching for. He saw four people, one of them Paige, in a picture.. Her mom was in uniform. They all looked nice, and resembled Paige a lot. John smiled.

He put the picture on a flash drive, which he brought in case this plan had somehow turned out as well as it did, and exited the library.

John couldn't pay to get the picture printed. But maybe he could print it at some office store without anyone noticing. He did still have his hacking device.

That's what he decided to do. He made his way into an office supply store, and tried to find a place where he the printers were. Eventually he spotted them. John waited until the worker who was sitting there took a break, which was after only about half an hour. Then he made his way to the computers that would work the printers, hacked into them –something very easy for him to do, at this point –and printed off the picture without a first glance in his direction.

John was very proud of himself, and excited to see Paige's reaction. The thought made him very excited. As he left, he saw something else, which he shoplifted after checking for cameras. He went home without anyone looking his way once.

...

(Paige's perspective)

My birthday came. Sarah made us breakfast, and later cupcakes, just as she had for John. She asked me earlier that week what my favorite color was, so they had yellow icing. We thanked her for the cupcakes, and she gave me a kiss on the forehead.

Later, John told me he had something for me. I smiled with excitement. "Come on," he said. He led me into his room and sat me on the end of the bed. Then he pulled out a box from his closet and handed it to me. "Go ahead, open it," he said with a smile. He sat down next to me. I pulled off the lid. There were two things wrapped up in newspaper. "Open up the small one first," he said.

"Okay," I said, giving him a smile. I unwrapped it, and there was a small leather bracelet. It was three leather strands braided together, with yellow ties on the ends that also weaved through the rest of the bracelet.

"I made it," John said. "I stole some supplies, and had to ask my mom how to braid, but... yeah."

"John, it's beautiful. You used my favorite color. That's so sweet." I was grinning and happy. That by itself would've been enough, but there was something else wrapped in newspaper. It was larger and square.

I unwrapped it and saw the corner of a picture frame, and then, a photo of my family. It was one we took one year because the military offered getting it taken for free to my mom if they could use it to promote something.

Now I wouldn't forget their faces. John somehow got this picture for me and framed it, all because of the thing I worried about a few days ago that made me cry. He wanted to make make me feel better. He wanted to ease my worries.

Suddenly I saw drops fall onto the frame, and I realized they were my tears. Thankfully there was glass protecting it. "John, I..." I said, smiling and crying from happiness. There was also relief in seeing my family's faces. I put the picture down next to me and wrapped my arms around John. He seemed surprised at first, but then he hugged me back, laughing slightly. "Thank you, thank you. This is the best thing anyone's ever given me. Thank you."

I was so grateful, so happy. "You're welcome," John said. "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," I repeated, lightly laughing. I pulled away from him, and he let me go. I picked the picture back up, wiping my eyes on my hand. I wiped the glass off, stared at it for a minute, and placed it on my nightstand. Then I took the bracelet and tried to tie it to my left hand.

"Here," John said, and he tied it around my wrist. "Maybe I could get one of those metal things for the ends."

"You won't have to," I said, "because I'm not taking it off." I smiled widely at him, and he returned the smile, taking my hands in his.

...

(John's perspective)

John rushed home, excited. He'd found leather and yellow thread, and thought it would be fun to make a bracelet. Once he got home, he put the picture in an old frame he had, dusted it off, and wrapped it in newspaper. Then he cut the leather and had his mom teach him to braid it. He tied the ends and wrapped the bracelet too.

He saw Paige's amazing smile spread across her face when she opened the bracelet. She called it beautiful and sweet. _Just wait till you see the next thing,_ he thought to himself.

Then John watched her open the picture. Paige's face began with curiosity, then it slowly became full of thought when she saw what the picture itself was of. She looked pained for only a moment, and then relieved. She began to cry, and tears dropped onto the picture frame. "John, I..." she began, and she was smiling very widely. Suddenly she put down the picture and wrapped her arms around him, thanking him over and over.

Paige called it the best gift she'd ever gotten. John hugged her back and told her happy birthday. Then she grabbed the bracelet and tried to put it on. He put it on for her, and when he offered to get a metal clasp, she only said that it wouldn't matter because she would never take it off.

John was so happy. He knew Paige was happy. He took her hands in his, and they smiled. Then he thought for a moment. He remembered that this was the day that, on the day of their first date a month or so ago, they would see how they felt about making out.

Before he reminded her of it, he said, "Listen, Paige, do you wanna go out tomorrow? Well, not _out,_ but on a date?"

She smiled more. "Always."

"Okay... good. And one more thing. Do you remember... what we talked about in the car, on our first date?"

Paige thought for a second. "Yeah," she said. "I guess it has been a month." She grinned. "Eager, are ya?"

"Well, no... I mean, not necessarily, I just thought of it." John's face was slightly flushed.

"I'm just messing with you," Paige said. "And... well, how do you feel about it, exactly?"

"Um, I think... I think I'm ready. But if you're not, I won't make you, I promise."

"Well, you might not have to. I... think I'm ready, too. But not this moment. When the time's right, you know?"

"Yeah. That's kinda why I wanted to do the date, so that maybe we could... I don't know, have a nice time before we go macking on each other."

Paige laughed. "I agree. It's funny, we keep acting like it's so serious, but it's kind of the opposite type of thing."

"Well at least we're on the same page. But I agree, too. We should have fun with it."

"Absolutely," she said, smirking.

"So, how's seven tomorrow sound?" John proposed. "I'm thinking dinner."

"Alright," she said. "Who's cooking?"

"Hm... I don't know, me?"

Paige scoffed lightly. "You can cook?"

"A little of this, a little of that," John replied in a slightly cocky tone. "But really, I only really know how to cook Mexican. So how's Mexican sound?"

Paige laughed. "Perfect. See you at seven. And thank you, so much."

John grinned. "My pleasure."

The next evening, John told his mom that they would be eating alone at seven. She didn't object. So he made some food, set the table, and even found and lit a candle. He smirked at his own cheesiness.

Then John went to Paige's door. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," she responded, grinning.

...

(Paige's perspective)

John brought up the making out thing. I felt like I was ready. He did too, apparently. But only when the moment was right.

I was actually looking forward to that moment, even though it made me nervous. Hopefully it would be on the date he planned.

That evening, John came to my door. He led me into the kitchen, where there was dinner and a candle all set up. I smiled. This was awfully romantic... but I was starting to like that word more and more. At least, whenever it came to things that happened with John.

We sat down and ate, talking about various interests. Eventually music came up.

"I like anything," I said.

"_Anything_?" John asked.

"Well, not _anything_, but most things. But I will absolutely not tolerate any country."

"Yuck, me neither," he said. I laughed. "I like most stuff too, I guess. Most people do. But what do you actually listen to?"

"Well, I like rock mostly. Alternative rock, hard rock, classic rock, and a bit of punk. In that order, I think. You?"

"I'd have to say the same," John said. Not in that order, though. Hard rock, then alternative, then classic, and a bit of punk." I smiled.

"That's awesome," I said. By then, we'd finished our food. "And so was this, by the way. I was wrong, you can cook."

"Thanks," John said. "Look, you wanna go listen to some music? I've got a kind of crappy MP3 player and some earphones."

"Sure," I said. We got up and went into his room, where he dug up the MP3 player. "Is it stolen?" I asked.

"No, actually, a gift. For once." He scoffed. Then he turned it on and handed me an earphone. "Here."

I took it and put it in my ear. He played a Foo Fighters song. "I love this song," I said.

John smiled at me. He seemed to have thought of something. "Wanna dance?"

"What?" I said. "I... can't really dance."

"No, like... slow dancing," he said. "You know."

"Um, it's kind of a fast song. And you really want to?"

He nodded. "It's not like there's a crowd. And you can slow dance to anything. I think." He smiled lightly.

"Well... okay," I agreed. "What do I do?" I smiled sheepishly.

"Here," he said, returning the awkward smile. He took my hands in his. "You put your hands here," he said, as he put my hands around his neck. "And I put my hands here." He put his hands on my waist. I tensed for a moment, then relaxed, enjoying the feeling. My stomach was doing somersaults. "Now we sorta sway, like this."

John began to rock from side to side slightly, and I followed. He smiled at me. I smiled back. "This is nice," I said.

"It is," he said. We did that for a while, even though it was a fast song. It felt weirdly romantic. Again. And I liked it. It was calming, yet fun anyways. Then I felt his fingers move slightly, and I jumped and took in a quick breath. "What?" he asked.

"Stop that, it tickles," I said, smiling and squirming a bit.

"Oh really? What tickles?" John said, a sly smile spreading across his face. "This?" He flexed his fingers on my sides, and I laughed.

"Yes, that!" I exclaimed, taking my earphone out.

"That's fun, it's like a laugh button," he said, the sly smile not fading as he took his earphone out and set down the MP3 player. Then he tickled me again, but more this time. I moved my hands off of his neck and grabbed his hands, laughing.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, laughing and trying to move his hands away. He mercilessly tickled my sides. "Oh my god, John, that tickles!"

"That's what makes it fun!" he said. I never actually told him to stop again, because honestly, it was pretty fun. I did, however, subconsciously back away from him. John followed me, tickling me still.

Then I fell onto his bed, and he fell next to me, not letting go. He was laughing along with me now. When I couldn't take anymore, I said, "Okay, stop, stop, stop!"

John released me as I let go of his hands. He put his head against his other hand, resting himself on his elbow. Then he looked down at me, still lying back on the bed. I turned onto my side and mirrored the position he was in. He looked into my eyes, and I looked back into his, getting lost in their greenness.

He reached over and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. "Paige," John said, his hand lingering on the side of my head, "I... I love you." His stare was deep in my eyes.

"I... I love you too," I said, staring just as deep back into John's eyes. I smiled, and so did he.

"And..." John said, his gaze dropping a bit every couple of seconds, "And... I think you're beautiful, Paige."

I dropped his gaze. "You don't have to..." I mumbled, my face growing red. "I'm not..."

"You're not what?" he said.

I dropped the hand that was holding up my head and lied on my back, sighing. "I'm just not..." I said, my voice low.

"Beautiful?" John asked. "Paige, as far as I'm concerned, you're fucking gorgeous." He wouldn't stop looking at me. God, why did he always need to look at me?

"You're just saying –"

"Stop that," he said.

"What?" I said defensively.

"That thing, where you bring yourself down. Where you make up a reason that someone wouldn't mean the nice things they're saying about you. The last person to talk bad about you should be yourself."

"I'm sorry..." I began.

"Stop that, too," he said. "You don't need to say you're sorry when there's nothing to say you're sorry for. You didn't hurt me, you hurt yourself."

"Why are you –?"

"Because you need to stop, you hear me?" John said, sitting up and hovering over me. He pointed a finger at me. "That's an order."

"An order?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "No more unnecessary apologies, no more denying compliments, no more insulting yourself, and no more acting like you're not as fucking beautiful as you are. An order."

I blushed. "Yes, sir, I guess."

"Okay, now I'll say it again," John said, smiling and still hovering over me. "I think you're beautiful, Paige."

"Thank you," I said, rolling my eyes.

"That's more like it," he said, smiling. I smiled back. He looked into my eyes and then, sort of slowly, he began to lean down towards me. His lips were about to touch mine when he pulled back a bit and said, "Are... are you okay with this?"

I began to sit up, John sitting up along with me. We sat at the edge of the bed, facing each other. "Is this... are we gonna...?" I began.

"If you're okay with it, then... yeah," he said.

"I do want to, I just wanted to know, you know?"

"I know," John said. Then he leaned towards me again and cupped my cheek in his hand. He kissed me, and I closed my eyes. We kept kissing, more and more, as he took my hand with his other one. I squeezed it lightly, and continued to his him. Then I felt like I had to put my other hand somewhere, so I decided somewhere in my brain to put it on his chest.

My heart was beating quickly, wondering what would happen next. The feeling of him kissing me so deeply was amazing After a little while, his lips parted and I could feel his tongue gently push past my lips and try to enter my mouth. I pulled away. "Too fast?" he asked.

"I'm kind of scared," I said. "I don't know why, I just kinda feel like I won't... do it right."

"Listen," John said, "I've never done this before, but I guess I just know that... you're not gonna do it wrong. There's nothing to be afraid of, I promise. But if you wanna stop, I'll –"

"No," I said, "I wanna keep going, but... you'll be okay with it, if I do something wrong?"

"Unless you bite my tongue off, I'm sure it'll be fine," he joked. He leaned his forehead onto mine. "I promise, it'll be okay, trust me. But again, just tell me if you ever need to stop –"

"Okay," I said, leaning in and kissing him. We kept going, my hand on his chest, him cupping my face, and both of us holding hands.

After a bit, he pushed his tongue past my lips, and this time I slowly opened my mouth. His tongue entered my mouth, and our tongues swirled around each other a bit. It was kind of weird at first, but then I liked the feeling. We continued to kiss that way for a while. I could feel that John was acting dominant, just by the way he was kissing me. Not like I was complaining.

We, what I would now call it, made out for a while. Then he did something surprising. John's lips left mine and he began to kiss next to my lips, then onto my chin. I tried to find his lips again, feeling the urge to continue kissing. But he dodged me, smirking for a quick second then putting his lips on my jaw. I gasped, and he grinned against my jaw.

I took my hand off of his chest and grabbed his chin, trying to pull him back up to my lips. I wanted to kiss him back. He only took his hand off of my face and grabbed my hand, pulling it down and lacing his fingers with mine. He smirked and said, "Hold on, I wanna make you gasp again, it was cute," before he continued to kiss along my jawline. I laughed slightly at the sensation.

Along the side of my face he kept kissing me slowly, until he got close to my ear. Then he, very lightly, licked just underneath my ear. I couldn't help it, and I gasped again, chills rushing down my spine. John laughed this time. And while this was very enjoyable for me, I felt like it might have been going to fast. "John," I said quietly, and he stopped and looked at me.

"Yeah?" he said, lightly squeezing my hands, which were still in his.

"I hate to interrupt," I joked, smirking for a second, "but... do you think we should do this? I know it's just kissing, but..."

"Do you want to stop?" he asked. "We don't have to keep going if you don't want to." I did like how reassuring he was that I didn't have to do anything.

"See, I want to, but I just thought... I don't know, it might be too fast. We're only fifteen."

"Paige," John said, "if you're ready, and I'm ready, I'm sure it's okay. And I promise, the most I'll do is kiss you. I mean, was... was I going to far with the ear thing? Or any of that? You can tell me."

My face grew slightly red. "You're not..." I said, "going to kiss... anywhere below, like, my neck, are you?"

"Oh, no. It was just kinda fun, making you gasp like that." John smirked, the way he so often does when he's being cocky.

"Was it really?" I asked.

"It was," he replied. "You wanna try?" He turned the side of his face towards me.

I blushed, feeling like there was suddenly a spotlight on me. "Um... what if I...?"

"What, bite my face off?" John asked. "Trust me, nothing bad's gonna happen."

"Alright..." I said. Hesitantly, I began to kiss the side of his face. It was pretty fun, moving my lips on his warm skin. I heard John's breathing grow shallower. "You're right, this is kinda fun," I said. I kept kissing him, and his breaths were still growing shallow. "Someone's breathing quickly," I remarked in between kisses, smirking slightly..

"Oh yeah?" John asked, hiding his breathing. "I bet I can make you breathe quicker." One of his hands left mine, and he grabbed my chin and turned my face so that he could kiss me. He kissed me along the jaw just like before, and he reached my ear again. Then he licked once and twice, quickly and lightly. I squirmed slightly at the ticklish feeling, and my breathing was indeed quickening.

He reached my actual ear and, sort of unexpectedly, he lightly bit my earlobe. I gasped again, and he laughed against my ear, making goosebumps rise over my neck and shoulder. Then he playfully bit my ear a few more times before moving along.

He kissed my neck once, and something unexpected happened again. I, just barely, let a little moan escape from my mouth. I immediately clamped my hand over it, trying to hide the noise. John stopped and looked at me. "What was that?" he said, grinning.

"Nothing," I said, blushing hard.

"I don't think it was nothing," he said. "Or should I try again?" An evil smile crossed his lips.

"Um, I..." I began, but John already moved down to my neck again. He kissed it lightly, which did nothing yet. Then he kissed harder, which made me breathe shallower. His tongue lightly danced across my neck, which did, unfortunately, get an even quieter and slighter moan out of me. It was barely anything, more like a gasp with a bit of my voice attached, but he noticed.

"Did I just make you moan?" John said in a cocky tone. "I think I just made you moan." He grinned.

"Oh, shut up," I said, blushing hard again.

"I will, so I can make you _moan_ again," he said. "I never thought I'd do that." He continued kissing my neck, and one of his hands went to my waist. I held his other one, and with my free hand I held onto his neck. He kissed me harder, surprisingly hard, but not hard enough that it hurt at all. He went as far as my collarbone, which he licked, eliciting another very small moan from me.

"I hate you," I joked, closing my eyes. He moved and kissed back up my neck, slowly, up to my ear, and back along my jaw, licking or lightly biting after every few kisses. "You're surprisingly good at this," I said.

"I'm just making it up as I go along, honestly," John replied between a kiss. Finally he reached my lips again, and we made out again for a while. I kissed around his face, getting over to his ear and doing the same light licking and biting. I repeated the process down his neck, copying what I liked on him. I even got one small moan, which he stopped from happening in the middle of it.

"Did _you_ just moan?" I asked. "'Cause I think I just made you moan." I smirked and used the same cocky tone.

"Maybe you did, maybe you didn't," he joked. I continued to kiss him, liking the feeling of his warm, smooth skin. Then, after I made my way back to his lips, we kissed more.

Finally he said, "Maybe... we should... stop," speaking when we came up for air. John kissed me one more time, for about five seconds, before we both pulled away.

"Probably," I said, letting go of him and moving my hair out of my face.

John laughed. "That was... fun," he said.

"More than fun," I said, also laughing. "Um, thanks... for the date, and everything." I stood up.

John stood up next to me and took my hands, looking into my eyes. "Goodnight, Paige."

"Goodnight, John," I said. "... I love you." I looked up into his eyes.

"I love you too," he said. Then he gave me a light peck on the cheek, which made me smile.

...

**[A/N: _That _was fun! If you have anything to say about this chapter, or any of them really, (concerns, questions, opinions, suggestions, comments), then review! It's not that hard. Also, in case you wanted to know, the song John played was "Everlong". And I might add a fanfic soundtrack link to the beginning, if I get to it. One or two for each chapter. Stay tuned!]**


	12. Chapter 12-A Bad Gift

**[A/N: Sorry about the wait, it's been a busy busy time for me.]**

…..

(John's perspective)

John took Paige into his room to play music. He had a general idea of where this might go, but he didn't focus on that now.

He played one of his favorite Foo Fighters songs. John was glad that he and Paige had the same music tastes. Then, on a whim, he offered to dance. She protested, but with some convincing, he told her how to dance. She put her hands on his neck, sending chills down his spine, and he put his hands on her waist. She tensed up but then relaxed. John liked holding her like that, being close to her. They danced a while, until the song ended. He moved his fingers slightly, and something fun happened.

Paige squirmed and admitted the fact that she was ticklish. So John, of course, put down the music and tickled her, eventually knocking her onto the bed. He fell next to her, until she finally couldn't take any more.

Then John looked at Paige, laying on his side. She was so... indescribable to him, so amazing. So he reached over and touched the side of her face, resting his hand there, and told her he loved him.

She thankfully said the same thing. John's stomach was flipping over and over inside him. Then he looked at her more, and told her that she was beautiful.

But she didn't think the same way. John's heart sunk, at her own sadness over her appearances. She did this more often than he thought she would, but subtly. She would deny whatever she heard that was kind or complementing to her. He didn't understand.

So he told her to stop. He told her she was "fucking beautiful," like he thought she was, and ordered her to stop bringing herself down. He didn't understand, so the best he could do was prevent it.

Paige apologized. _Why does she keep doing this? There's nothing to be sorry for!_ he thought. So he told her to stop that too.

John ended up, at some point or another, leaning over Paige, in an effort to get her to hear his words. She, after he called her beautiful again, thanked him. And he went down to kiss her.

He asked if what was probably going to happen next was okay, not wanting to spring something on her. And she agreed once they made sure they both knew what was going to happen. So they started kissing.

John kissed Paige, more and more, cupping her face. He eventually tried to add some tongue to the equation. But she stopped.

John worried that he was going to fast, but after talking, he found that Paige was only frightened. But they talked more, and decided that anything Paige was worrying about wouldn't happen. He made sure she knew she could tell him to stop at any point. Paige felt comfortable, John felt comfortable, so they kept going, actually making out now.

John thought the feeling was weird at first, but then he enjoyed it, practically basking in it.

He did something on a whim once again, going where his gut told him to go. He left her lips, and kissed just below her mouth. She tried to get back to his lips but, teasingly, he wouldn't let her. He thought it would be fun to tease her like this, to kiss somewhere other than her lips, to see her reactions to his kissing.

He smirked and kissed her jaw, making her gasp quietly. John thought that was, frankly, just adorable –even though he hated that word almost as much as romance. She took her hand off his chest and tried to force him up to her lips, but once again he wouldn't let her. He just took her hand and held it in his. He told her to hold on, because he wanted to make her gasp again.

This whole making out thing was funner than John thought it would be. For many reasons. He kept kissing her jaw, and got up to her ear. He got excited with a sudden idea, and he lightly licked the spot under her ear.

She stopped him again. She was worried it was going too far, that they were too young. But he assured her, trying to not pressure her at the same time, that as long as they were both okay with it, it would be fine. And they both made sure they knew there would be nothing more than kissing –and nothing below the neck.

John offered to let her try kissing his neck. Part of this was to tease her, and part of it was because he wanted to experience it for himself.

She did, and John realized his breathing was becoming shallow. Paige noticed.

So he bet he could make her breathe quicker, wanting to kiss her neck again. He continued, slowly. He made his way to Paige's ear, and bit it. He laughed when she gasped once again. Once his lips touched her neck, he heard something from deep in her throat.

He wasn't totally sure, but he thought she just moaned. Quietly, and barely, but still. She clamped her hand over her mouth, and tried to hide it, but he wanted it to happen again just to see. After he licked her neck, it happened again. And he caught it. He smirked, cocky.

John went down her neck, kissing pretty hard. He didn't seem to hurt her, though. Then he bravely put a hand on her waist, and she put a hand on his neck. He went down to her collarbone and licked, making her moan quietly again. John thought making her moan like that was pretty hot.

He kissed her more, back up to her lips, then she went and kissed down his neck. This time, completely by accident, _John_ moaned, and Paige noticed. After some teasing, she continued, biting and licking every once in a while. John liked the feeling of her lips on his neck, but he liked feeling his lips on her warm, soft skin more.

Then they made out for a bit more, before John ended it. Paige got up, they said goodnight, and they each said they loved the other one. John leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and he could feel her smile.

He was still holding Paige's hands. He thought of something before she left. "So, um, does this mean..." John said, "I know we're dating, but can I... can I call you my girlfriend, now? Are we boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Paige smiled, seeming like she was thinking of something else for a moment, and said, "Yeah, I guess we are. Love you, boyfriend."

"Love you, girlfriend," John said, grinning. Then she left for her room and they went to sleep. It took him a while to fall asleep, as he was thinking about the experience he'd just did. But eventually he did, quite happy.

When he woke the next day, however, Paige wasn't as happy.

….

(Paige's perspective)

We were boyfriend and girlfriend. It was just like my dream, but not in my school. John and I were boyfriend and girlfriend. We made out. And he was so gentle, so kind. Even if we did tease each other in the middle of it.

Most importantly, we said we loved each other. Now everything, all of our feelings, were out in the open. I was elated. He even thought I was beautiful, even if I didn't think so myself. Hell, he wouldn't let me not think so myself. I repeat, I was elated.

Until the next morning. It was a wonderful evening, and I didn't have the nightmare that night. Every once in a while I avoided it.

So while all of that was good, what I woke up to was bad. I got up and went to the bathroom, when I saw a purple bruise on my neck.

_Shit, shit, shit,_ I thought. John had given me a hickey. I didn't know if it was an accident or on purpose –if it was on purpose, I was going to kill him –but he gave me a fucking hickey. And I had to go out to the table to eat breakfast. I had to go to school.

I'd obviously never gotten a hickey before. So how the hell was I going to hide it?

I panicked. I ran back to my room, trying to avoid the eyes of anyone else. Even John's. To me, it would still be embarrassing for him to see, even if he was the one who gave it to me. I successfully made it back.

But I had no plan. I had no turtle necks, no scarves. Even if I did have one, if I wore it now it would look suspicious, since I didn't usually wear things like that. So I went with makeup.

And I didn't really have much of that, either. I did find some in the bathroom, however, in a drawer. I reached for something that matched my skin as much as possible. I put it on the purple spot on my neck and tried to blend it. It worked, but I didn't think it was good enough. Maybe no one would notice.

By now, I was peeved a bit at John for doing this to me. I still didn't know if it was an accident or not, though, but I assumed the worst, already annoyed with the embarrassment and inconvenience. I got dressed and brushed my hair, wearing it down to try to hide the hickey even more.

I took a deep breath and went downstairs. John and Sarah were already down there, and breakfast was already on the table. I sat down and tried to act normal. _Jesus, you're bad at this,_ I thought to myself.

We ate, and Sarah got up. She took her plate and John's, and offered to take mine, walking over behind me. I didn't want her to lean over and see anything, so I declined. "That's okay, I got it," I said.

"I'm already up," she said, insisting on taking it for some reason.

"I know, but I'm getting up anyways," I said, standing and starting to walk towards the sink. I wanted to get farther away from her, so she couldn't look too closely.

Sarah glared at me before I could walk away. "What's going on with you?" she asked. "You've been acting weird all morning."

"Nothing," I said.

She looked back and forth between me and John. "Are you guys fighting or something?"

"Not as far as I know, no," John said. She looked over at me.

"Why would we be?" I said.

She scanned my face. If I was better at hiding things and lying, I might've gotten away with it. I should've known better, in hindsight, since it never worked with John.

She glanced at my neck and must've seen something. "What's that?" she asked.

"What's what?" I said.

"That," she said, coming closer and pointing at the spot on my neck. She tried to touch it, but I moved back. I glanced at John. He was watching closely, and I began to think he was figuring out what was happening. "What's on your neck?" Sarah continued.

"There's nothing on my neck," I insisted.

"No, there's something..." Sarah insisted, touching it again and rubbing some makeup off. "Is that makeup?" She looked at me, and I couldn't take it. She was staring at me, John was staring at me, I was sure everyone knew now.

"It's a hickey, okay?" I shouted. "A goddamn hickey! Are you happy now?" I felt embarrassment rise up, and my face and ears grew hot. Then I harshly dropped the plate onto the table and ran up to my room, hiding my face.

I began to cry, overwhelmed and mortified. I felt like one of those whiny teenagers who hated everything. But even more, I felt like some easy chick. I felt like... I hated this word too, but I felt like a slut.

I didn't know what it was. I really did want to make out with John, more than anything in that moment. But now that I did, I felt weirdly alone. Like maybe now John felt like he got what he wanted, and he didn't care anymore. Or maybe after he made out with me, he didn't like me anymore, but he didn't want to say anything in the moment.

My thoughts were scattered, all over the place. I felt crazy. I felt embarrassed. I felt frustrated. I felt angry. I felt sad. I felt everything, and I hated that I felt everything.

And I didn't want to, but I felt like I regretted making out with John. Like maybe, just maybe, it was a mistake, or it wasn't the right time.

And most of all, I felt scared. Of my feelings, of everyone's reactions. Of everyone's opinions. Of the consequences of my actions. Of the barrier we'd just broken, that we might never be able to fix or go back through. Of the way that John's and my relationship might not be so innocent anymore, might not be so close, might not feel the same, might not be the same, might not give me the same feelings as I had before. Of the fact that, maybe, John wouldn't like me anymore, as a girlfriend or a friend.

It was like the straw that broke the camel's back. All of these pent up fears and worries and feelings got to me, and this was what released them all into my mind. I cried, curled up on my bed, my door shut and locked. I thought for a while, my emotions building and building as I worried and feared and felt more and more.

…..

(John's perspective)

That morning, John could tell something was up. Paige took a long time to get ready in the morning, and she kept running around. Then, during breakfast, she barely glanced his way, let alone talked to anyone.

Then something with the dishes happened. John wasn't paying much attention at first. It was something about who was taking them to the sink, no big deal. Sarah wanted to take Paige's dishes. But Paige was weirdly insistent on doing it herself, and she quickly got up and started to walk away.

Then Sarah's curiosity must've gotten to her, as it was getting to John, so she asked her what was going on, glaring at her.

Of course, as she always does, Paige said there was nothing going on. Sarah ended up suspecting the John and her were fighting, which he suspected himself. He said he wasn't aware of it. She said the same thing.

_So what's the deal?_ John thought to himself, looking intently on at their conversation. Sarah looked at something that was on Paige, something near her head that he couldn't see. Sarah asked what it was, and Paige was clearly acting like there was nothing there. John could tell she knew exactly what his mom was talking about. But he had no idea what it was.

Until Sarah pointed at Paige's neck, right near the middle of the side. She tried to touch it, and Paige backed away, looking nervous. Then she glanced over at John, her worry seeming to grow. John felt like he might know what it was, which worried him, but he wasn't sure yet. Then his mom asked what was on her neck, and Paige insisted that there was nothing there.

Sarah touched the spot, taking something off of it with her hands. She asked if it was makeup.

She stared intently at Paige, and John realized he was doing the same thing. More worry grew in his head. Paige stared nervously at both of them, looking defeated and frustrated.

"It's a hickey, okay?" she shouted, and John's worries were confirmed. "A goddamn hickey! Are you happy now?" Paige's face became bright red, and it grew all the way to her ears as she dropped her plate onto the table. She ran upstairs and John heard her shut and lock her door.

He gave her a hickey. A fucking hickey. If this was any other girl he'd made out with, and she got a hickey, John probably wouldn't have cared. Hell, he might've even been proud of himself, boasting about it at school or something. But he gave Paige a hickey. He cared about Paige, he loved Paige. Paige lived in the same house with him. And all of those things made it more complicated.

Knowing his mother, he could tell that Sarah knew the moment she saw something on her neck what it was. And she normally wouldn't have cared about such a stupid thing, but this time she pressed, on and on until Paige became mortified. She could've left it alone, but maybe because it involved two people under her care, she made Paige admit it.

John didn't care her reasons. He knew she could've left it alone, since he knew she already knew. So he was furious. Both at her and at himself, for not stopping it when he thought something was wrong, or for just giving her the damn thing in the first place.

"What the hell did you do that for?" John shouted at Sarah, rising out of his chair. "Jesus, do you have to make everyone tell you about everything? Do you have to know about everything? What's your beef with her? Why can't you just leave her alone?"

Sarah's voice was level. "I had to," she said. "I can't have people hiding things from me in my own house. It's tough love."

John was enraged. "Tough love? Screw your tough love! Tough love my ass! You _didn't _have to do that!" He lowered his voice. "And you and I both know you already knew what was going on. You and I both know that you know what goes on. But you just _had_ to make her admit it, make her feel embarrassed. I'm starting to think it's just fun for you."

Saying that last thing stung for him to say a little, and he regretted it before it left his mouth. But he was too angry to care. As far as John was concerned in that moment, it was what she needed to hear. He was done with Sarah always acting like every heartless thing she did was "tough love" and necessary. All she was doing at this point was bullying people.

John stormed off, running up the stairs. He headed to his room and sat on the bed. Once he cooled down from his anger, still regretting his own actions and still mad at himself, he went over to Paige's door.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

As I cried, completely mortified with a pillow over my head, I heard almost nothing else besides my own thoughts, sobs, and breathing. Until someone knocked on my door.

"Paige?" John's voice came through the door. "Paige, please let me in. I'm really sorry." I stayed where I was, still embarrassed and a bit angry. I felt like Sarah was ganging up on me, trying to make me embarrassed, and John was just sitting there and watching to see how it would turn out. Either he didn't know what the situation really was, or he didn't care about what she was doing. I assumed the worst. Maybe I was making assumptions, but I was mortified and my thoughts got the best of me.

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me," he continued.

"Leave me alone," I said harshly. "There, I talked to you."

"Jesus Christ, Paige, if you don't open the door I'm going to take it off its hinges. You know what I meant, let me talk to you." I could hear the pain and worry in his voice. There was something I was missing.

Reluctantly, I stood up. I silently wiped my eyes and made my way over to the door, unlocking and opening it.

John came in and shut the door behind him as I sat back on my bed. He sat down next to me. "Paige," he said, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to give that to you." He gestured to my neck, and I covered it with my hand, looking away as my face became red again. "I didn't mean to just sit there when... when my mom was doing that, either, I just didn't know. I'm just so... _done_ with her bullshit. She doesn't need to know everything, and... well, I'm sorry about her too."

I realized the thing I was missing, and that was his anger towards himself and Sarah. But that didn't make me any less afraid, just less angry with John. I still thought he wouldn't like me anymore, wouldn't be able to joke around or have fun with me anymore. He could've been apologizing just to be polite, or whatever. And I still felt irrational, and I still felt like I was... easy.

My hand was still covering the mark, and I still didn't look at John. Even in front of him I felt easy, embarrassed. He reached for both of my hands. I backed away from his reach, saying, "Please, don't..."

I saw his pained and disappointed expression, and I fidgeted slightly, wanting to hold his hands but worried and afraid all the same. "Paige," John said, "what's wrong? There's something else going on." I was silent. "Paige," he pressed.

"I'm afraid, that's what's going on!" I yelled, frustrated. "I'm afraid that you won't like me anymore, and that you won't want to hang out with me anymore, and that we won't feel the same way anymore, and that we won't be able to just be the way we were before yesterday. And I'm afraid that it was a mistake. And I'm afraid that Sarah thinks... I'm a... a slut now. And I'm afraid she was only doing that because... because I think she's looking for an excuse to kick me out."

I spoke from a deeper place than I was even thinking from. I didn't want to say it to myself, in my thoughts... but I knew what it was, what was there. I was afraid of two things: that John and I wouldn't be the same as we were before, and that Sarah would be so mad she would leave me on the street. I knew the feelings were there, but until now they were hidden inside me, not even open in the words in my own head.

I cowered on the edge of my bed, fearful of my harsh and frightening words. I was trying to avoid John's eyes, which were trying to look into mine. My face was red hot and I still covered the bruise on my neck. Things were falling apart all over me, all because of this one stupid thing I couldn't let go.

"Paige," John said. "Paige, look at me." I shifted and looked at him, but I still didn't meet his eyes. "_Look at me,_" he said again. I looked into his eyes, feeling overly dramatic. Every couple of moments I looked away, not able to hold his gaze. "Were you afraid of this? Is that why this whole thing was so upsetting? Not because it was that embarrassing, but because you were afraid of what might happen?"

"I... I'm..." I stammered, shutting my eyes out of frustration and trying not to cry again. I remained on the corner of the bed as John kept trying to be closer to me. I didn't want anyone or anything to touch me, I just wanted to make the whole world go away. But, at the same time, I just wanted to be held, and comforted, and talked to. It was very confusing.

"Hold my hands," John said after a moment. "Take your hand off your neck and let me hold your hands, Paige." He held out his hands in front of me. I moved my free hand slowly over to his, where he took it and squeezed it lightly. Then I took a deep breath and slid my hand off of my neck, turning it to the side to hide the mark from sight. Then I wiped some of the makeup I had put on off of my hands, and reached over to his. He was now holding both of my hands. I felt self-conscious.

Tears fell from my eyes before I even noticed them blurring my vision. "You and Sarah are all I have left," I muttered. "And I feel like she never thought I should be here. If she kicked me out... I would have no one. And I love you, John. I'm really, really scared that we won't... we won't be friends anymore. That you won't like me anymore, or we won't be able to go back to the way we were before we... made out. And if I lose you, too, I..."

I lost my voice as a lump formed in my throat. I couldn't bare the thought of losing John... it would make my nightmares come true. I would have no one left.

"I love you, Paige," John said. "I'll always be at least friends with you. Even if this wouldn't work out, I would still hang out with you. But that won't even happen. I care about you too much to let that happen. And my mom... if she kicks you out, I'll leave with you. But _that_ won't even happen. I know she cares about you, too, she's just... a little paranoid sometimes, and she likes to know everything that's going on. But I don't know why she... oh, never mind. The point is, we all care about you."

All of the things he was saying made my heart swell. But honestly, deep down, there was still a twinge of fear. And a whole lot of embarrassment. There was a lot of relief, though. The tears streamed down still. "What's the _point_ anymore?" I asked, crying. "My family, and the nightmares, and the future... it's all so scary. I can't _take it_ anymore. Why shouldn't I just... just..."

John gripped my shoulders, suddenly, shaking me a bit. "Paige, if you're about to say what I think you're going to say, don't _ever_ even _think_ about that again. Do you hear me? _Never_."

"But what _is_ the point? I'm useless, I can't do anything in the future. I'm not ready. I can't... I won't..."

"Yes, you can, you will," John insisted. "And the point is that... I think that, if you weren't here... _I_ wouldn't have made it. That's the point. The point is that we care about each other, and we want to keep going, for ourselves and for everyone else. You can do anything in the future, when you're ready, which you will be by then. I know it's scary, but I'll be there. I'm here. And I've gone through it my whole life, so... I'm a whole lot more used to it. So I can be there."

The entire time, John kept the vice grip on my shoulders, looking deeply into my eyes. Then he released them, and moved his hands down my shoulders and onto my arms. Before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed at his shirt and pulled myself towards him. My hands still gripping his shirt, I shut my eyes and cried a bit more, hiding my face in the curve where his shoulder and neck met. He wrapped his arms around me and held me closer, cradling me in his arms. There he sat on the edge of my bed, me curled up next to him, with my legs pulled up underneath me. He stroked my back and hair with one of his hands.

The crying subsided, and I stayed there, relaxing in John's arms.

…..

(John's perspective)

It was difficult, but he got Paige to talk. And what she talked about enraged him a bit more, but he hid it for the moment, focusing on trying to calm her down. He was pretty sure, at the end of it, that she felt so hopeless about the future that she wanted to... to end it. And he snapped her out of it as quickly and as forcefully as he could.

John had had those thoughts before. Not a lot, but once or twice, when his impending and stressful future that he was preparing for became too much for even him to handle. But he always got a hold of himself, with the hope of saving humanity, and with the hope of possibly not needing to in the first place. _No fate but what we make,_ he would think to himself. It was never really bad, anyways.

But he wanted to make absolutely sure she wouldn't even go as far as thinking about it again. There was almost nothing that made him more afraid than losing someone he cared about so much, which was now two people: his mom and Paige.

She was still upset and in tears, though, understandably. She was so afraid, of the world, of her thoughts, of the future, of losing more people. And John understood that. He felt that way too sometimes, but for her it must've been much worse, considering she hadn't had those feelings all of her life.

Before he realized what was happening, Paige grabbed John by the shirt and pulled herself towards him. She continued to cry, and she buried her face in the crook of John's neck. John just held her there, cradled her in his arms, tried to comfort her. He stroked her hair and her back, holding her close and letting her tears fall onto his neck. When she was like this, he wanted her to be nowhere else but with him. Then her crying subsided, and she relaxed, but she still remained in John's arms silently.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

After a while, when I stopped crying, John spoke. "Please stay with me," he said. "Whatever you were thinking... please don't do it. Please."

He must have not stopped thinking about that, this whole time. His voice cracked a bit with hurt. I pulled away and looked up at him into his eyes. "I didn't really..." I said, "I wasn't thinking about what I was saying. I'm sorry, John. I would never."

"Never? You swear?"

"Yes," I said.

"Say it," John said firmly, holding my stare. "I want you to say it out loud, that you won't ever... hurt yourself."

"I swear that I will never hurt myself," I said, holding up by right hand and putting the other over my heart.

"Good," he said. He paused, seeming to be thinking. "Now come with me."

My brow furrowed. "Why?"

"Because," John said, standing and taking my hand. He didn't finish saying his reasoning. He was dead-set on doing whatever it was, and I followed him when he pulled me along. Before I could protest, he took me over to Sarah. Then he presented me in front of her, holding my shoulders and firmly telling her, "Apologize."

My hands shook involuntarily and I gulped. There was a pause. Sarah was silent, but her cold stare towards her son spoke volumes. There must've been something I missed earlier, because the tension between the two could be cut with a knife. I instinctively tried to put my hand up to my neck and get away, muttering, "John, I don't want to –"

"Apologize," he repeated, stopping me from leaving his grip. He met her stare, looking away only to look at me. I saw an assuring look in his eyes, and I was sure mine had a look of fear. Deep fear. He reached over and took my hand off of my neck. It began to shake like my other one, and I swallowed, resisting the urge to cry. John's hand returned to my shoulder and he gently squeezed, turning me back towards her.

I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to run away from him for doing this to me, but not before I shoved him hard away. Yet I felt like another dramatic display would just reassure my fearful thinking. So I just left my hands trembling and held back tears, looking at my feet. I felt pathetic.

John continued. "Look at what you did to her," he said. "You know what she thought?"

I looked over at him, even more scared and angry now. "No," I protested, "don't –"

"She thought you would kick her out. She thinks you're looking for an excuse to. Because you couldn't mind your own goddamn business." Now out of worry, I looked over at Sarah. Her stare was stone-cold, but when he said those words, her face fell. She looked over at me for a moment, her expression sympathetic and sad, but then she immediately stopped and tried to keep her strong look. I couldn't tell what that meant. "_Apologize_," John said a final time, still holding my shoulders.

Sarah gave him another quick, hard look before she looked at me and it softened. "I'm... sorry," she said, sighing. "I'm not kicking you out. You're necessary, for one thing. But I guess... well, you're like a daughter to me now." She turned to John. "But I've still got a bone to pick with _you_. You have to be more careful. You gave her a hickey. And if I could see it, so could anyone else. Then before you know it people are making up rumors about her, and it'll be your fault." She looked at me, then back at John. "I know you guys are dating, or whatever, but you still have a responsibility, like it or not. You're her family, so you still have to protect her.

"And I'm sorry I did it this way," she continued, looking at me, "but I knew there was something going on with you, Paige. So, yes, I knew there was a hickey before I made you admit it. But you weren't acting the way you usually do around John. Something was up, something was upsetting you, and I knew it had to be about the hickey. I figured it wouldn't have come out if I ignored it. And this way, I knew John would have gone to talk to you, so I knew it would come out. It had to, and you know it.

"And John, this was what I meant about tough love," she said, looking back at him. "I wasn't expecting you to get mad at me, but I guess it was because you were mad at yourself, which came out too. It was all for the best."

I took all of this in, and the more Sarah spoke, the less my fear showed on the inside and outside. My hands stopped shaking, I no longer wanted to cry, and I relaxed. And I had to admit, what she did worked. Now I felt better about the things I was thinking this whole time, and it just would've stayed bottled up if she did ignore the hickey. Plus, she pointed it out before people at school could.

"Thank you," I said to her, finally looking her way. "I love you, Sarah." Then I reached over and hugged her.

"Love you, too," she said.

"I'm sorry, mom," John said. "I was just... that was just stressful. I'll try to be more careful." He turned to me, smirking a bit. "And I'll try to protect you better."

"One more thing," Sarah said. "I don't care if you make out, but if you're gonna do more, be sure to –"

"Mom!" John shouted, his face turning red. Mine was too, for the billionth time today.

"– use protection!" she said quickly, snickering and walking away.

John's face was like a tomato, and I'm sure mine was the same, if not a deeper, shade of red. "I'm going to act like that last part never happened," he said after a moment.

"Agreed," I said.

…..

(John's perspective)

The thought of Paige hurting herself, like she implied she was thinking about doing, physically pained John. He made her swear that she wouldn't do anything of the kind.

Then he thought. He thought about how all of this happened. And he thought about who was to blame. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wasn't thinking entirely rationally, but he still felt like most of this was Sarah's fault. It wasn't like Paige got these fears of being abandoned out of nowhere. So he set his mind to do something, and he wasn't going to be stopped anytime soon.

John took Paige by the hand and led her to Sarah. She didn't understand until he put her right in front of his mother. He told her to apologize before Paige could object, and he held her shoulders in an attempt to reassure her and possibly keep her there.

John's mother stared at him with her cold, stone-like stare. But he had seen this before. It was nothing new. He only returned the look back to her. Then he felt Paige begin to tremble slightly. He looked down at her, and she turned away, trying to wrestle free from his grasp, and mumbled about how she didn't want to do this.

He didn't like seeing her so afraid. However, it was only more of a reason to keep her there. To have Sarah apologize. To make what was wronged right. He told her to apologize again before turning his attention to Paige. Her hand was covering the mark on her neck. John tried to give her a reassuring look, one that would ease the one full of fear in her eyes. Deep fear.

He took her hand off of her neck, not wanting her to feel afraid or self-conscious anymore. It began to tremble to match the other one, and he put his hands back on her shoulders, lightly squeezing, before turning her back to face Sarah.

John knew that Paige would be angry with him now, but he also knew it would resolve itself when Sarah apologized. She looked like she was holding back tears, her hands still trembling, and she didn't look up from her feet. The sight made his heart heavy. John tried to make his mother see what this had all done to her, and he tried to tell her what Paige had feared earlier. Paige's head whipped up to look at him, and begged him to stop, a bit of anger mixed in with the fear in her voice.

He continued. He told her Paige's fears. And for a moment –just a quick, split second –her face fell, and she looked at Paige sadly. Then the stare returned. John kept his hold on Paige's shoulders and told her again, an edge to his voice, to apologize. She kept the stare but then, finally, it softened and she looked back over to Paige.

She said she was sorry. It sounded honest. Eventually she explained that John had to be more protective of Paige. He felt that he was, that he was trying to be, but he knew that what happened was stupid of him. He should have been more careful. He became angry with himself, his mother once again defeating him with her reasoning and... tough love.

She apologized for the way she did it, but she also explained that what she did was meant to get Paige to let out the feelings she was holding in. She explained that she knew that something was off, and that everything that happened ended up the way she wanted: with Paige's concerns being told to John, with John learning his lesson, and with Paige being caught with a hickey by her instead of by someone at school. John had to admit, even if all of it wasn't intended to end up that way, it worked. Which he didn't exactly like, but he let it go.

Paige thanked Sarah, and John apologized. Then he told Paige that he would be more careful.

Sarah, of course, left it on an embarrassing note. She said that she was fine with them making out, but if they "did more," they should use protection. John cringed at her words, and he shouted at her, turning bright red. He saw Paige's face turn the same color. And they both agreed that what she said never happened.

…..

**[A/N: I know that ended in a slightly weird place, but I hope you liked it anyways! (Please tell me if you do by REVIEWING, hint hint!) I also know that Paige's thoughts were a bit jumbled earlier. I assure you that I intended to do that, so that you would read them in the same jumbled way they occurred in her head.**

**Woo! 12 chapters! Be ready for 13, guys! :) ]**


	13. Chapter 13-Compliments

**[A/N: I am so, so sorry for leaving whoever is following the story waiting! I have had an incredibly busy few months, along with a bit of writers block. But, here it is! Enjoy!]**

…..

(Paige's perspective)

That night, I found myself at John's door again. Without fail, whenever I had that nightmare, I would always feel a mix of horrible sadness and fear. I became more used to it than I was the first couple of times, but only very, very slightly. And I still couldn't remember that one looming and important part of it.

I was at his door, upset and lonely. But there was one thing stopping me. I felt weird about it, in the same way that I had when we started dating. It was especially weird now that we had made out, and because Sarah said that one thing about "anything more."

I put that out of my mind immediately. I hesitantly knocked on his door. He soon opened it and greeted me, tiredly smiling. We sat in front of his bed, and he put an arm around me and pulled me towards him, as usual. I didn't cry this time, but my stomach was twisting with the weird feeling I had.

The thought of what Sarah had said popped into my head again. This time, I couldn't ignore it, even though I wanted to. I had no idea if I wanted to... do _that_ yet. I had no idea if John wanted to, either.

It was exactly like my worries about making out. I was attracted to John... maybe not quite enough to do that yet, but I was. I was just worried that he wanted to and I wasn't ready to.

That worry disappeared when I remembered how it worked last time. I became worried that he wanted to make out with me, and that I wasn't ready. Not only was he not ready, but he also waited and made sure that I was, too. So I knew that wouldn't happen. _Jesus,_ I told myself, _you worry too much._

"Something on your mind?" John said suddenly.

"Why do you ask?" I replied, avoiding my actual thoughts.

"I don't know. You're pretty quiet."

I paused for a moment. It was embarrassing, but I knew he would get it out of me. He always did. "I feel weird," I said. "Do... do you remember... what Sarah said? About... more than making out..." I felt the heat rise to my face. I was sure that I was blushing.

"Um, yeah," John replied.

"Well... I sorta think... we should probably talk about that."

"Okay," he said. "Um... I know I'm not ready. I doubt that you are."

"No, not yet," I said.

"So... I guess we just wait, until the time is right for both of us."

"How do we know that?" I asked.

"I guess we just... feel something," John said, "I don't know. I think it'll be pretty obvious. I hope."

"Do you think we... will be too young? I don't know when it'll happen, but..."

"I really think that it's about us feeling comfortable. And safety. So, protection."

"Alright," I said. I felt better about it, at least.

"So..." he said, "why did you say you felt weird?"

"I just... I don't know, I felt like once I came over here you might... only want to make out with me. Like I said before, I'm just scared that you won't wanna really hang out with me anymore. It's really stupid, I know. I feel like I'm just worried or scared about _everything_."

"I liked making out with you, Paige, believe me," John said with a laugh. "But when you're upset or scared, I'm not gonna do something like that to you. And I do wanna hang out with you, like normal. It's not stupid. You're scared or whatever about so much because there's so much to be scared about. Jeez, when am I gonna get through to you that you're just _a fucking person_?"

"Why aren't you so scared about everything, then?" I asked. "You're a fucking person, too."

"I'm a different person. I'm not in the same situation as you. And as for most of the other stuff that's the same, I'm used to it. I grew up with it. That's why. So will you just trust me?"

"Yes," I said, sighing. "God, I'm such a drama queen."

"Then I love drama," John said.

"No, you don't. Nobody loves drama. They're just swept up in it."

"If you're drama, then I love drama."

"You're just saying –"

"Didn't I tell you to stop that?" John asked. "No, wait, I ordered you to. Remember?"

"It's not as easy as you'd think," I said hopelessly.

"It should be. Do you need some help?"

"How would you even help me? Duct tape?"

"If it comes to that, yes," John said. "But until then, I'll just... compliment you. Especially when you insult yourself."

"You just _love_ helping me, don't you?" I asked, thinking of all the times he used it as an excuse to be close to me.

He smiled, probably thinking of the same thing. "I do," he said. "But I'm serious. I'm gonna tell you about how awesome you are until you won't even think about doubting it."

I smiled lightly. "You do that then," I said. I paused. "I love you."

"I love you, too," John said.

"Goodnight," I said.

"Goodnight."

…..

(John's perspective)

The next morning, John had an idea. He wanted to compliment Paige, just like he said he would, but whenever he did it out loud, it didn't really sound the way he wanted it to. So he decided to put it on paper.

He found a piece of paper and a pen, and he began to write a letter to her. When he finished writing it, he signed his name, and reread what he wrote. He knew it didn't sound that great, but he liked it. He hoped she would like it as much as he did.

John realized that there was a large space at the bottom of the page left, so he did something he knew he was better at then writing. But he had to get a glimpse at Paige first.

He walked over to her room, where the door was slightly open. He peeked inside and saw her lying stomach-down on her bed with her feet in the air, reading. It was a perfect image. Thankfully, she didn't see him look at her.

John went back into his room and put pen to paper, the image of her reading there in his head.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

In the late morning the next day, John came to me in my room. He had a folded piece of paper in his hands. "Hey," I said.

"Hey," he said, sitting on the edge of my bed. I shifted my position to sit next to him. "I, uh... here, read this." He handed me the piece of paper.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Compliments, like I said last night. I'll leave you to that."

"Okay then," I said. He got up and left. I unfolded the paper and read it.

_Paige –_

_ I wanted to compliment you like I said I would. I think I'm better at writing things down than when I say them out loud because I'm not really good at expressing myself. I'm not used to it I guess._

_ I'm sorry if the spelling or grammer isn't that good. I haven't been in school for long enough. __If it makes me sound stupid, I promise I'm not. But I know you know that because you've heard me talk. This just gets my point across better than when I talk, even if it makes me sound stupid._

_ I love you, Paige. I never thought I would say that to someone in the way I say it with you. You make me so happy. I want to be with you all the time, when you're sad or happy or scared or brave. I think you're beautiful, and smart, and nice, and fun. You're my best friend._

_ I just want to make you happy. I want to see you smile and feel good. When you get upset, it makes me feel awful. I just want to make you laugh and smile like you do when we talk about stupid stuff. And I want to protect you from everything that makes you so sad, as much as I can._

_ I know you're so scared and sad so often, and to me that's not a bad thing at all. It means you have feelings and thoughts and that you're a real person. I'm actually surprised you haven't broken down and pulled your own hair out. If I was you I think I would have done that. __I want you to know that I will always be there for you. I care so much about you._

_ I think you're beautiful because of the way you look at me, the way your hair frames your face, the way your eyes twinkle, the way you look so bright when you're happy, so easy to love when you're sad, so cute when you're mad, and so adorable when you're embarrassed, shy, or you think you're awkward. I think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met on the inside and outside._

_ I think you're smart because of your amazing ideas, how you're always thinking about everything, how I know you will see the mistakes on this letter jump out at you, how you know what to say and when to say it, how you always know how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking more than anyone else does. I think you're so smart, more than me, and I see it more and more all the time._

_ I think you're nice because of the way you treat every nice person you see with so much care, the way you always care about everything I have to say, how you want to be friends with everyone, how you make everything you do come from your heart, how you love everyone that deserves to be loved, no matter what. You are so nice to me I feel like I have to apologize for nothing sometimes._

_ I think you're fun because of the way you want to try new things, how brave you are, the way you want to play little games, tease me, do fun dates, or be romantic, the way you pretend to hate romance, just like I pretend to do, the way you have an expression and a way you move and speak that makes everyone who's near you happy. All of my boredom or sadness goes way when I'm near you._

_ I think you're funny because of the way you laugh with me, the way you are so ticklish, the way I see you dancing or singing adorably when you think no ones watching, the way you jump up and down and talk fast over things you're excited about, how you make so many jokes, puns, or sarcastic comments that it makes everyone love you even more. I want to laugh with you over everything, just to hear it and see you smile._

_ I don't think I would've been able to go on if I didn't have you. You're one of the only good things in my life. And you're a pretty damn good part._

_ – John_

_ P.S. Look on the back_

It took me a little while to read it, but I was stunned by the time I finished it. I couldn't put my feelings into words. But there were a whole lot of feelings. Amazing feelings. Tears sprang into my eyes. Then I flipped over the paper, as instructed, wiping away the blurred vision of my tears.

Drawn on the back was a picture of me. At least, I guessed it was me. It couldn't have been anyone else. I was reading on my bed, lying stomach-down with my feet in the air, just like I had been earlier. I was dressed just like I am now, with jeans, a dark gray t-shirt, and the bracelet he gave me. My hair was down and long. Instead of looking at my book I was looking up and smiling. It was adorable, and very well drawn.

I got up and went to John's room, still holding onto the letter. He was sitting on his bed. I ran over, sat on his bed, and wrapped my arms around him. He laughed, taken aback a bit, and wrapping his arms around me in return. "I guess this means you liked it," he said.

I nodded into his neck. "Yes, I loved it," I said. "I loved it more than anything. I can't put into words. I loved it. I loved it."

"But did you love it?" he joked.

"Yes!" I said, still not letting go. "I _loved_ it, John. I've never read anything like that. It was so heartfelt, and wonderful, and _romantic_, and sweet, and amazing. Just amazing. My heart aches with joy, John, it was so amazing. It makes me so happy. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"I'm really glad," he said. "That was really what it was for. I just didn't know how to say so much out loud, and once I started writing it, I just put down what I felt. I started thinking of little memories and things of you that made me smile when I thought of them, and then I wrote them down."

"Oh, that just makes it better," I said. "You make me so happy, John. And the drawing is awesome. I never knew you could draw like that. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I just didn't... well, I didn't think my drawings were all that –"

"You have _more_?" I said, surprised. I finally pulled away from him, looking at him excitedly and smiling.

"Well, yeah..." John replied, "but they're not really –"

"Of course they are! C'mon, if they're like the one you drew me, they're awesome. Can I see some? Please?"

"Really? Um, sure, just let me get some." He got up and opened a drawer in his nightstand. He pulled out a small, black, spiraled book. Then he came and sat down next to me again.

John opened up the book, a little reluctantly. "Hey," I said, "if these are too personal for me to see, then you don't have to show me."

"No, I want to show you," he said, "it's just... I've never shown these to anyone. So, I don't know, I'm kinda self-conscious about them."

"Well, then, whenever you're ready," I said. I gave John a reassuring smile, and I leaned close to him to see the book better. He opened it fully now, showing me the first page. There was John's name, drawn in big graffiti letters. He flipped to the next page. There was a sketch of the picture Sarah had given him, with her sitting in the Jeep. This one was a more cartoon-like drawing. "Cool," I said.

"Thanks," John said. "I try to draw things that make me happy, or just stuff that's in my life. It's kinda comforting, I guess." On the other page was a picture of his mom and himself eating dinner at a table. He flipped the page. There was a drawing of guns on one side, and a helicopter on the other.

Flip. A dirt-bike. Some explosions. Flip. A forest. The city. Flip. Then, there was a drawing of him and the terminator high-fiving. On the other side, a drawing of a family photo. His mom was there, and below her, John, but next to Sarah was a drawing of a man. I guessed it was a drawing of his father. It looked a lot like him, so maybe Sarah had described him once.

I looked up at him now, and his expression looked hurt slightly. I felt horrible, so I reached over to his forearm and squeezed it lightly. He looked back at me, snapping out of his gaze, and give me a thankful smile. He then flipped the page, and on the most recent one was a drawing of what I guessed was me. "That's... that's you," John said nervously.

I smiled at the drawing. "Why'd you draw me?" I asked.

"I said I draw things that make me happy," he said, smiling more now.

"Aw," I said. "I love it. I love all of these. They're really good. Like, really, _really_ good, John. The one of the city is my favorite."

"Thanks. I'm, um, glad you like them."

"When did you start drawing?" I asked as he shut the book and put it aside.

"Well, these were some I started maybe a year ago. But I've been kinda doodling a bit for a while."

"That's awesome. I wish I could draw like you."

"Thanks. I wish I could play guitar like you," John said. "I would say that I wish I could sing like you, too, but I don't really like singing." He smiled.

"Really? Thanks," I replied. John sighed. "What?" I asked.

"I don't know, today's kinda big for me," he said. "I wrote you a fucking love letter. And I showed you my drawings. I've never done those things before." He paused. "I'm glad I did it with you, though. Jeez, that sounds cheesy. Whatever. I mean it."

I smiled at him. "I'm glad I did it with you, too. Now will you kiss me already, you cheesy dork?"

"Oh, you know you love it," John teased.

"What, the cheesiness, the dorkiness, or the kissing?"

"All of the above," he replied, laughing. I laughed along. Then he slowly leaned over, staring into my eyes, and planted his lips onto mine. I sighed and closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling. I still got butterflies in my stomach.

…..

(John's perspective)

John was glad Paige loved the letter. It was something he had been wanting to tell her for a while.

She came in tears, and latched onto him. He hugged her back as she explained how much she enjoyed reading it.

He showed her his drawings, a bit reluctantly. But she enjoyed them. Even the ones with him and the terminator, and him and his dad. Those were the ones he was afraid of her seeing, those were the ones that made him reluctant, those were the ones that made him self-conscious. But she just looked up at him and gave him a squeeze on the arm. He smiled gratefully, glad she didn't think it was weirder than it really was.

It was just something he did since he didn't have any pictures to look at. Something that comforted him, made him feel less alone. Something that helped him get through the times where he felt alone. She seemed to understand a lot, even though she didn't say so out loud.

John said that he was glad he shared those moments with Paige. She called it cheesy, but appreciated it, and said that she felt the same. This made John's heart swell. Then she teased him, telling him to kiss her, and he teased her back. Then he leaned over slowly, looking into her eyes, and planted his lips onto hers. He shut his eyes, and he could feel her sigh. He did the same. It still gave him butterflies in his stomach.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

_Two months later_

Over the course of the past couple of months, nothing new really happened. We continued to go to school. John gave me love notes. They were small, and happened around once a week, with little reminders like "You're beautiful," "I love you," or "I care about you." Sometimes they had doodles, or they were just doodles, of things like smiley faces, things that make me happy like music notes, words in graffiti letters, or even random objects like apples. I kept all of them, every single one, in a shoebox.

We kept going on silly dates, but they were always low-key as usual. Watching movies, having dinner, or just listening to music and dancing. Sometimes we would make out, with or without the date coming beforehand. It never went further than it had the first time, but it was still just as fun.

I continued to have nightmares. I never found out the part that I was missing. It killed me, the fear, the sadness, and the urgency of what wasn't sticking in my memory. But John was always there for me. He would always keep the nightmares at bay.

One day, something changed just a little bit. We were down in the bunker, training a bit more, as we did every once in a while to keep me up to par. And all I could do was stare at John.

This wasn't the normal wanting to kiss him, or look into his eyes, or anything. I didn't just stare at John. I stared at John's _body_. I stared at his neck, his arms, his chest, his abs, his back, his legs. I had no idea what the hell came over me. He would show me more self-defense moves, and I would watch his muscles move.

Don't get me wrong, before this time things like this were happening. But it wasn't happening so often.

It kept happening. I would just have to look at him. I didn't think he noticed. Hopefully he didn't notice. Sometimes, it would even be his ass. At those moments I would then look away from him and blush, then try to get my face back to a normal color as fast as possible.

The thought of "anything more" popped into my head again.

…..

(John's perspective)

John loved leaving Paige those little notes or doodles. It was a highlight of his day. He always hoped it would make her smile.

They kept dating, kept making out, everything. They also kept training. And something a bit different kept happening. They were in the bunker, and John had just taught her another self-defense move. Then he watched her do it, and he couldn't help but stare at her.

This wasn't the usual looking to see if she was doing it correctly, or wanting to kiss her, or look into her eyes, or anything. This was staring at her _body_. John didn't know what came over him.

He hoped that she wouldn't notice him. He couldn't help himself, he didn't know what it was. But he didn't want her to think he was a pervert or anything. He did feel like one, though.

John would stare at her arms, her waist, her abs, her legs... her chest... her ass...

This wasn't unusual, per say. It was just happening a lot more often than usual. Paige would do something like bend over, and it would catch John's eyes. Then he would look away and his face would become red. He would try to return it to a normal color before she noticed.

Then, the thought of "anything more" popped into his head again.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

On another day, John asked me "out" again, for a movie date. We went into the living room, after Sarah went to sleep, and put on a movie. There we sat for a little while. Soon, John inched closer and closer to me. He wrapped his arm around me. We cuddled, holding hands, and watched the movie.

Soon it ended, and we went back into his room. We sat on the bed and kissed.

It escalated quickly, and soon we were fully making out. He held one of my hands and had the other on my waist. One of my hands was in his hair. Soon, he moved his lips over to my neck.

Then something began to happen before I could even notice, I was so swept up in the moment. John's hand began to creep up my waist, soon reaching the lower middle of my ribs. Then he stopped and looked at me intently. "Um, can I...?" he said a bit awkwardly. I looked down to where his hand was. It was just below my breast. My heart thumped in my chest. He must've sensed my tense reaction. "You can tell me to move my hand whenever," he said.

"I, uh..." I said, losing my words. Finally I shook my head and gulped, trying to say something. I grabbed his hand and held it in mine. "I'm sorry, I'm just... I'm just scared."

"I get it," John said. "I mean, I know it's kinda different for you, being a girl and all. I didn't mean to pressure you, I just wanted to see... if you wanted to. Not... all the way, you know. And if you don't mind me asking... why are you scared?"

"I don't know. It's scary. You'd be... touching me." I blushed hard at my stupid word choice. "And... I'm kinda self-conscious, I guess. And... we wouldn't be doing anything more, would we?"

"Nothing more, I promise. Unless you want to. But then we'll have to talk again." John smiled at me. I returned the smile weakly. "I know I'd be touching you, but... I think it would be okay. I know you don't have anything to be self-conscious about. And, honestly, I kinda think you'd like it." He smirked, and I blushed more. "But if it's too scary, again, no pressure."

I thought for a moment. "We... well, I guess the 'too young' thing isn't coming into question anymore. We both keep agreeing that it's about us both being ready. So... well, let's keep kissing, and then just try again, alright?"

"Gladly," John said, smirking. I laughed a bit and kissed him, and he moved his hand to my waist again. My hand went back into his hair. He once again moved his way over my jaw, to my ear, and then down my neck, nibbling and licking every once in a while. Him kissing my neck distracted me once again, so I barely noticed his hand move up to my ribs. Then his fingers grazed the bottom of my left breast. I took in a quick breath. He stopped his hand and said, "You alright?"

"Yeah, just... surprising," I barely said, my breathing was so shallow. "But, um... can I be kissing you when... when you do this?"

He laughed slightly and said, "Absolutely." Then we kept kissing, and our tongues danced a bit. I shut my eyes. This felt better somehow.

His hand moved from it's spot just below my breast. Soon it moved up more, and more. My stomach was doing somersaults. My heart thumped in my chest. The sensation was... amazing. Soon his hand was cupping my full breast. My breathing became shallower and shallower. Then, he flexed his fingers, very lightly squeezing. His palm pushed down slightly. I couldn't help it. I let a noise escape my mouth, moaning into John's.

John pulled his head back a bit, putting his forehead against mine. I opened my eyes and saw him smirking. "Someone's enjoying this," he whispered, "even more than I am." I blushed, looking down, and he continued the same motions with his hand as before. Then my eyes fluttered closed and I smiled, eliciting a laugh from him.

"Oh, shut up," I whispered, leaning in to kiss him more. We kissed like that for a few more minutes, then I pulled my head away, leaning my forehead against his like he had done before. He moved his hand to my waist. "Um..." I said, an idea forming in my head. "I, um..." I looked away and said meekly, "Can... can I touch you?"

John laughed, not a taunting laugh, but more of an amused one. It made me blush for what I could've sworn was the tenth time in the last hour. "Hmm..." he teased. "If you can look me in the eyes and ask again, I'll think about it."

I blushed more, but smiled a bit anyways before taking a deep breath. I looked into his eyes and said, "John, can I touch you?" I was almost certain that that made my blush spread to my ears and neck.

"Where?" he asked quietly.

"Under your shirt," I said, even quieter.

He smiled sort of shyly, some of the only shyness I had seen appear from him throughout this whole thing. "Go ahead." He leaned over and we kissed more.

Anticipation making my hands practically shake, I felt my hands creep to the hem of his shirt. My hands slipped underneath and slid up. I felt my fingers burning on the warm skin of his chest. Down the front of his torso my hands danced with a mind of their own, feeling his muscle and smooth, warm skin.

I moved my hands around his waist, still under his shirt, and moved them up his back. Once again they danced and I could feel his muscle. I pulled him towards me and we kissed more deeply. Suddenly I felt both of his hands, which I could've sworn were warmer now, on my breasts. He squeezed lightly, and his thumbs ran across my nipples, making me moan suddenly. This time he moaned after me, which was so, incredibly hot. Finally, when I felt like it was enough, I pulled my head away and slid my hands out from under his shirt.

John leaned over and gave me another quick kiss before slowly moving his hands from my chest. Then he looked at me, a silence brought on between the both of us that didn't need to be broken for the moment, a look in his eyes that was unexpected. Instead of a look of desire like I had imagined it being, it was more a reflection of the look on my face. It was the look that we had both just broken a barrier, a wonderful one, and explored something new in a loving and gentle way. I took John's hand into mine.

After a few more moments of us just staring at each other, John said, "I love you," not breaking the gaze.

"I love you too," I replied. And then, both of us feeling almost silly because we were so serious for so long, we laughed and looked away for a moment. Finally, the mood returning to a more normal place, I said, "I'm tired. I think I'm off to bed." I stood and made my way towards the door, John following.

"By the way, I just want to you know that you can still come to my room if you have a nightmare, even after this." he said. I smiled, and he smiled back.

"Thanks. Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, Paige."

…..

**[A/N: And there it is! Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, along with any ideas/concerns/questions, so just message me :) Also, there may be updates to previous chapters, mostly plot hole fixing and more writing itself, because after re-reading them I realized some things I didn't like. More coming SOON, I promise, and as always, REVIEW!]**


	14. Chapter 14-Asking

**[A/N: Sorry for the wait, again, but please enjoy the next chapter. And for the record, things get more vulgar but not much past that. Thanks!]**

…..

(John's perspective)

_Wow_.

He hadn't gone into it thinking he'd do what he did. He'd crept his hand up her ribs almost mindlessly, like it was a fantasy – but the further he went, the more he realized that it was what he wanted. What he thought they were ready for.

The way she was so timid at first worried him, and he was completely ready to stop, though he still would have been a tad disappointed. But as he discovered that she was ready, and she was still timid, it continuously made him smile. It was pretty adorable.

And as he began moving towards her... breast? For a moment his mind wandered as to how he should describe it: breast was too clinical, boob too silly, and tit too vulgar. He settled on clinical over the others and mentally smacked himself for letting his mind wander during a moment where he should be present.

So, as he began moving towards her breast, his heart practically jumped out of him, it was thumping so hard. And when he felt her, it was amazing. He wanted to flex his fingers, and he did gently, since he was afraid it would hurt her. He pressed his palm down a bit. And she moaned into his mouth. He could never get enough of that noise.

He had to give some sort of comment, and it made her blush... which was also adorable. He wanted to see her face as he made the same motions with his hand, and when he did, her eyes fluttered closed and she smiled. John couldn't help laughing.

She pulled her head away, and to keep things from being a bit awkward, he let his hand rest on her waist. She spoke softly, but it wasn't hard to hear, and it took her a minute, but she finally asked to touch him. But she wasn't looking at him, and he didn't want her to be embarrassed or afraid, especially because he had been so confident.

Yet it was kind of amusing. She had been sort of afraid to start, and now she wanted to touch him back. He teased her and told her to look him in the eyes and ask again, mostly so she knew she didn't have to be timid. Paige blushed once again, and it deepened as she asked him.

Then John thought about the actual request. Where did she want to touch him? How far did she want this to go? How far did _he_ want this to go?

His voice dropped and he asked her where. Quieter, she told him under his shirt. This wasn't too far at all, so he accepted, but he felt shy. John never usually felt shy, so this was a surprise even to him.

Her hands seemed to be nervous just by themselves. She moved them under his shirt, up to his chest, and they felt so warm it was like they were on fire. It felt awesome. He could tell she was feeling some of his muscle, which made him smile in his head. She moved her hands to his back, pulling him closer. John moved his hands back to her breasts, and ran his thumbs across her nipples. She moaned, and the noise and the movements of her hands and the feeling of her chest was so hot that he moaned right after her.

As they broke away, John gave Paige another quick kiss and moved his hands away. He felt like they had broken another barrier, and it made their silence and the look on her face peaceful. They held hands, and John reminded her that she could come to his room, no questions asked. They smiled, and Paige left.

John sat on the edge of his bed. He thought of how great that felt. He imagined how great something more would be.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

_Four months later_

Nothing much had changed. Even though we had broken that barrier, we both shied away from much else. It never even went so far as him touching me under my shirt. I hadn't even seen him shirtless.

One night, though, that aspect changed. When we were making out, I expected John's hands to move towards my chest... instead, they moved towards the hem of my shirt, slowly inching it up. I pulled away.

As I felt my face flush, I stammered. "I... uh... I'm not..."

John moved his hands away. "That's okay," he said, "that's okay. I just... I don't know, I wanted to see if you were ready."

"For... for how much?" I asked.

"I don't really know. I don't want to put any pressure on you, I know that. I just thought... I don't know, we've been taking steps, and this could be a step towards... going all the way."

I thought a moment. John took my hands into his, which he does whenever I look concerned or worried. "I... I know I'm not ready to go all the way," I said. "And... I think I would be ready to, uh, take off my shirt, but... I think I want to save that for when we go all the way. Were... were you ready, for that?"

"Not exactly," he said. "I'm not educated on the subject enough, we obviously don't have any condoms on hand... but other than that, I'm... I feel like I want to." His face flushed.

"Can I be honest with you, for a second?"

"Of course," John replied.

"Sometimes, when we make out or whatever... I feel so ready, I feel so... turned on." I blushed hard at my word choice, but I still felt like I should be honest for at least a second or two. "But I... I don't think I'm emotionally ready for something like that. It... it changes things. Not in the way that we love each other, exactly, but things aren't the same after wards, that much I know. I'm sure it will be a good change, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that change."

"So, you feel like you want to, too?" he asked.

"Not emotionally, but... yeah."

"So, physically?"

"...Yeah."

"That's pretty hot," he said, smirking. I couldn't help blushing.

"You sound like some popular dude in a crappy teen movie," I said, trying to cover up my embarrassment by teasing him. "Your name might as well be Brad."

"But Brad turns you on. Isn't that what you said? That I turn you on?" His smirk turned into a full grin.

"You do not," I said defiantly.

"So when I kiss your neck, and I touch you, and you moan, that's not you turned on?"

"No."

"Guess I'll have to change my tactics, then." And with that, he leaned over, put a hand on my waist, and started kissing my neck. His lips left me and he moved towards my ear. He whispered, "If this does nothing for you, I guess I should maybe try biting..." He bit my ear lobe and I pressed my lips together as I tried to steady my breathing. He bit my neck a bit before whispering, "Anything?"

"No," I breathed, which gave me away slightly, but he played along.

"Maybe I should try licking, what do you think?" And he licked from the back of my ear to my collarbone, which gave me goosebumps. I tried not to make any noise. "What about that?"

"No," I said again, quieter, wondering what he would do next.

"I think I'll try a combination, while I touch you." He kissed my neck and moved his hands to my chest. I was desperately trying not to moan, wanting to win whatever stupid game we were playing. Finally, when he licked behind my ear as he pressed his palms down, a moan escaped from my mouth. John moved away from me and said, "Gotcha. I do so turn you on."

"Okay, fine," I said, "maybe you do."

"So what was it?" he questioned, getting a little too cocky. "The licking, the biting, the kissing, my hands? Or was it the whispering?"

"I don't know, it was all pretty hot," I said, in my best jock from a stereotypical teen movie voice, smirking. John rolled his eyes at me, and I leaned over and kissed him. Then we made out for a while longer.

About a week later, I was thinking more and more about going all the way with John... even if I wasn't prepared emotionally, I wanted to be physically prepared for when I was. So I did one of the most embarrassing things possible: I went to Sarah. Jesus.

One morning, while John was still asleep, I went up to her and asked to talk with her for a minute, sort of like I had done a while ago. Since no one was in the room, we just sat at the kitchen table.

Quietly, I began, "So... okay, this is going to be really awkward, and weird, and I'm sorry, but... I'm sure you know that John and I are getting older, and – "

"You and John will probably have sex soon."

"Jesus, how do you _do_ that?"

"It's a talent, I know."

"Yeah, well... I was sorta looking for advice, because... I'm not ready yet, but I want to be safe when I am, and I don't know much about safe sex, or where to get condoms, or birth control..."

"Does John?"

"I don't think so."

"Does he know you're talking about this with me? Was he planning to?"

"Not that I know of, no, but –"

"John!" Sarah called, and I became frantic.

"Sarah, please don't, he's gonna –"

"I will, because I'm not telling you both the same thing separately and you need to talk about something like this together. And I need to hear that you are both on the same page. John!" She called again, and I cringed. I heard his feet thumping as he ran down the stairs.

"Everything alright?" he asked as he walked into the room. I let my hand rub my forehead and I hid my face behind it.

"Paige is asking about sex," Sarah said bluntly. "Sit down."

John pulled out a chair next to me, across from Sarah, and I was sure he was looking at me being so embarrassment as he said, "Eager, are ya?" My face became red, and I knew he was smirking.

"No," I said quietly, and I didn't make eye contact. Jesus, as if coming to his mother about this wasn't enough.

"Wait here, I'll get an encyclopedia," Sarah said as she stood, "maybe it'll have a chart or two in there."

"Oh dear god," I said, and John laughed. How could this possibly be funny to him?

She came back and showed us a diagram of a penis. Then she thoroughly explained where the sperm comes from, where it goes, how women get pregnant, and so forth, with plenty more diagrams. "But you are not getting pregnant," she said. "Seriously. Not happening. You don't need condoms, since neither of you have any STDs, but you need birth control. So, Paige, we'll have to take you in to get an IUD."

"What?" I said, shocked and confused.

"It's simple. Basically, it's a reversible, long-term form of birth control. No pills or anything."

"When?" I asked.

"How about tomorrow?"

"Oh, Jesus..." I said, thinking. But why not tomorrow? If we didn't know when it would happen... "Alright."

"And, some advice –" she said, getting up to leave.

"Ugh," I groaned, hating every moment of this. John just seemed amused, which baffled me.

"– do some research, the internet can be quite useful for this stuff."

"Ugh, ew," I said, and Sarah finally walked away. I heard her laugh to herself, and I sighed, feeling relieved that she was gone. But I still didn't want to look in John's direction.

"You've been thinking about this, haven't you?" he teased.

"I just wanted... information, just in case. You never know."

"I see."

"Oh, shut up already," I said, my blush fading when I eventually looked up at him.

…..

(John's perspective)

John knew that Paige got turned on by him. And, honestly, it was super hot. She turned him on, too. And when he saw that she was asking about sex, and when her mother was her usual blunt self and Paige was so mortified, he couldn't help but to feel amused by it all – especially because he knew it meant that she was thinking about having sex.

He was thinking about it, too, actually. At this point he was sure that it'd be difficult for the both of them not to. But he knew she wasn't ready, even though, for the most part, he was. So that was that.

The next day Sarah took Paige to get an IUD, however that worked.

A couple of weeks later, when Paige ended up in John's room again, she was unusually quiet. "Something on your mind?" John asked.

"No, I'm just tired," Paige said.

"You're not usually tired enough to be quiet, why all of a sudden?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'm sleeping, but I don't think I'm sleeping well, and it's just getting to me. Like, when I'm having nightmares, it's not good sleep, and when I'm sitting up, it's not good sleep, so..."

"I'm sorry," was all John could think of to say. They were silent for a while.

"Hey John?" Paige spoke up suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we could... um... can we..." She waited a moment, struggling to get it out, and the anticipation of what she wanted got to him.

"You can just tell me," he said. "All you have to do is just tell me."

"Okay, um..." she said, "could we, maybe, sleep in the bed together?"

_Holy shit_, John thought. He leaned forward and faced her, giving her a knowing grin.

"No, uh..." she stammered, her face quickly turning red, "just, uh... just sleep."

"Nothing else?" John teased.

"No." She played with her hands.

"Just sleep?"

"Just sleep."

This was gonna be fun.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

God, that request was stupid. He wouldn't want to. It was stupid to sleep in a bed with someone if there wasn't sex involved. I was so stupid.

"Okay, just sleep. Alright." And with that, John stood up and looked down at me. He sighed, like I was a big garbage bag he'd have to take out. Then he shook his head like I was a dog that peed on the carpet. He moved to my left, leaned down, and scooped me up, one arm under my back and the other under my knees. What the hell was he doing?

My thoughts were irrational, but real to me regardless, as he began to walk towards the door. Was he serious? And again, what was he doing, and why? Was it because I wanted to sleep instead of have sex in his damn bed? My heart started thumping loudly.

"What am I going to do with you? 'Just sleep,'" he said, and I couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. But he moved slowly and surely towards the door. He leaned down, while I was still in his arms, turned the doorknob, and opened the door. My stomach twisted itself into a knot "I guess I'll just have to show you the –"

My fears got the best of me, and I burst into tears. "No, please don't, please! I can... w-we can..."

Before I could state my empty promise, John shut the door, put me down, and put his hands on my shoulders, leaning down just a bit so his face was directly parallel to mine. "Hey, hey, hey, hey," he said, like he had no idea where this was coming from. And maybe he didn't. "Don't cry." He wiped some tears from my cheeks. "Please don't cry. I was just kidding." He pulled me into a tight hug. "Jesus, Paige, I was just kidding. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said quietly into his shoulder, my arms hanging stupidly at my sides.

"No, it's not," he said. "I made you cry, and I'm sorry." He paused, and he seemed to be thinking for a moment. "Did you really think I would kick you out?"

"Sort of..." I replied. I could see the hurt on his face, followed by just a twinge of anger.

"Over what?" he asked. I remained silent. He pulled back and looked at me, his hands on my arms. "Why did you say 'we can'? We can what?"

"We can, uh... we can work this out."

"Work what out?"

"You... kicking me out."

"But over _what_? And why did you say 'I can', then?"

"I can..." I began, but I couldn't think of anything to fill in. "I don't know."

"Paige, what were you about to offer?" he asked. I looked away. God, I was stupid. "Were you about to offer to have sex? Just so I wouldn't kick you out?" That was the first time either one of us had actually said "sex" to the other one. And over something so ridiculous.

"Yeah," I said very quietly, still not making eye contact.

"Have you been afraid of this?"

"Afraid of what?" I asked, but I felt like I already knew the answer.

"Afraid that I'd make you leave if you didn't have sex with me, since I've been ready and you haven't."

I looked at him and just silently nodded my head.

"Paige," John said tersely, looking me in the eyes, "don't ever do that, not even for me. Even if I would do something like that to you, which I wouldn't, don't do something that you're not comfortable with and ready for just for comfort. If that's what it takes, find the comfort somewhere else. But I promise, I won't ever kick you out over something stupid like that. I'm not going to pressure you into it like that. Because when we have sex, I don't want you to feel forced. I want us both to feel ready and comfortable." He took my hands in his.

"So you don't care if we don't have sex yet?" I asked. "Even if we don't have sex until 5 years from now?"

"I mean, it might suck for me a bit, but I'd rather have to wait than to have you not enjoy it."

"So you just want us to be comfortable?"

"Yeah, and trust me, you'll want to be comfortable, 'cause when we finally have sex, you're gonna be there a while."

I don't know what it was about the way he said it, or maybe it was what I knew it meant, but I suddenly felt my knees get weak and my face get hot. John must have noticed, because he just looked at me and laughed. The blush that I knew was already in my cheeks deepened and spread to my ears and neck, and I looked away, saying, "Sorry... I feel kinda silly."

"I'll be the judge of that," he said, and I couldn't tell what that meant.

"Huh?" I asked. Then he leaned down and picked me up, as he had done before, the ease of this action to him always a mystery to me.

"I don't think you feel silly," he said, "just cold. Wanna get under the covers?"

As I held onto him, I simply smiled and nodded. He walked me over to the right side of his bed, if you were facing it while standing at the door, and then placed me down on my feet. He walked around to the other side, pulled back his covers, and smiled at me. "What?" he asked.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"For what?"

"The first time we sleep together," I replied.

"But we've slept together dozens of times," he said.

"Yeah, but... not like this. Not in a bed."

"So the floor doesn't count?" he asked.

"No, it does... this is just different."

"Well, in that case, yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay," I said, smiling like an idiot. I pulled back the covers and we both got into the bed. I turned onto my side to face him, and he did the same, the two of us leaning against our elbows with our heads propped on our palms. I wanted to be closer to him, as close as we usually were on the ground, but I was afraid to make the first move.

He stared at me for a moment before suddenly saying, "Well, good night," and turning over onto his other side. I stared at him, dumbstruck.

"But..." I said, sitting up.

"But what?" he asked, turning his head around to look at me a moment. "You said 'just sleep.' So I'm just sleeping." He began to turn back around.

"Wait, I..." I began, but I was too embarrassed to ask.

He turned his head around as before, saying, "Yes?"

"Can we..."

He turned himself completely around and looked at me. I pulled my legs up and hugged my knees. "You can just tell me," he said exactly as he had earlier. "All you have to do is just tell me."

I hated just telling him. I was sure he loved it when I did, but I hated being direct. It was such an easy way for me to embarrass myself. "Can we..." I began again, and I swallowed hard. "Can we... cuddle?" And I blushed. Again. God, that was such an awful word. Cuddle. Ugh, it was worse than romantic.

But again I realized that I loved the word more with John. He simply laid down on his back and reached out an arm, smiling invitingly at me. I inched towards him, smiling sheepishly, and then I laid down next to him. I felt almost afraid to be so close to him when we were both lying down in a bed, so I only got as close as I had the night we lied down under the stars. My head was resting on his arm, and his body was close to mine, but they weren't touching. I didn't want to go too far or make him think I was being eager.

He must not have thought that this was enough, because he moved his arm down, wrapped it around me, and pulled me closer to him. As he did, I turned to my side and instead rested my head on his upper chest and shoulder, growing less afraid. After a moment I curled up even closer against him.

John's scent was intoxicating, and I could smell it so easily with the steady breathing that being near sleep brought, plus the fact that my face was next to his chest. He smelled like bar soap, and fabric softener, and a little bit of peppermint. He smelled like happiness, and safety, and home. And I felt so safe, lying there with him: the warmth of him, mixed with the warmth of the blankets, was bliss. And as he played with my hair like it was something he did all the time, I felt like I was in heaven. Soon, the warmth, his scent, and the relaxation from his hands in my hair, plus the cozy and safe feeling I had, made me unable to keep my eyes open anymore.

As I drifted to sleep, I heard John laugh quietly, followed by him saying, "Cuddle. It's such a stupid word, but it feels so awesome." I nodded my head against him and smiled, closing my eyes.

…..

(John's perspective)

When he realized that she actually thought he would kick her out, and it wasn't just her upset with him joking so harshly, he felt hurt, and then almost angry. He knew deep in his heart that she was just afraid, but he couldn't help taking it personally, and he was upset that she couldn't get past it when he'd showed her that he's not some jerk. He never had been, not really. Why couldn't she see that? But he couldn't blame her; it would be wrong to.

And Jesus, he was so ready to sleep in that bed with her, even if there was no sex involved. And he loved that she wanted to cuddle. He loved that she called it cuddling. It was so fucking cute.

When John woke up, in the middle of the night, Paige was even fucking cuter. He could see her now, with the moon shining brighter through his window, curled up around him. She seemed to glow, lying there, so still. He could feel her closely against him, one of her legs now wrapped over his and her arm over his middle. It was like in her sleep she got as close as she really wanted to, like her stupid fear of being too needy didn't occur to her subconscious mind.

He could smell her, and he was in love with her scent. She smelled like vanilla, but not a cheap, vanilla-scented perfume or lotion. She smelled like real vanilla, like a cupcake. And like Paige. He didn't know how to describe it, but Paige just smelled like Paige. She had this trace of a scent that he couldn't name in any other way. He thought that there should be a perfume made after it. Also, like a blanket. Like a clean, soft blanket that had that welcoming scent from when it's been in your house and it just smells like home. That's what she smelled like. Like vanilla Paige wrapped in a blanket.

And he loved her hair. Just the feel of it. It was so silky and smooth, he could run his hands through it all night.

He could feel her warmth. It wasn't just the normal warmth of her body: when she slept, her skin seemed to get fiery-hot. He could feel her one leg between his, so warm...

He should probably move back to his usual spot.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

When I woke, I could feel that I was on my back. I probably rolled away from John in my sleep. I reached to my right and felt for him, but he was not there. As I woke more entirely, I looked out the window. It was still dark. I looked at the clock on John's nightstand. 1:04. I figured he was in the bathroom, so I went back to sleep.

Then I woke again. My mind was still cloudy, but as I grew more conscious, I realized that he was still not there. I looked at the clock. 2:48.

My heart practically burst from my chest as alarm hit me. He had been gone from his own bed for more than an hour and a half. Why didn't I look for him? He could've been killed in that amount of time. Oh, God, why did I assume he was just in the bathroom? What if he wasn't? Where was he?

I sat up and turned around, moving his pillow, hoping to find the gun that he usually kept there. There was nothing.

Panicking, I got out of bed as quietly as I could, in case something was still in the house. He wouldn't just disappear, out of nowhere, for no reason, would he? I opened his door quietly, looked into the hall, and found nothing, so I silently ran across the hall to my bedroom. There was no one in there either, so I reached under my pillow for my gun. It was there. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I turned off the safety, made sure it was loaded, and headed for Sarah's room. I went into the hall, and I crept in her room's direction.

"Paige?" I heard suddenly behind me. The sudden noise startled me and I screamed for a short moment before whirling around. I pointed my gun, only to find John. He backed up a bit and said, "Hey, easy with that thing, what the hell are you doing?"

I breathed, lowered my gun, and pressed my hand to my chest. "Jesus, I thought you were gone!" I shouted.

"Shh, you're gonna wake my mom," he said quietly. "Come back in my room." I followed him in.

"Where the hell did you go? You scared the shit out of me!" I said.

"I was on the floor."

"What?"

"I was on the floor. Listen, I'm just not... I'm just not used to beds, alright? It feels weird."

"What do you mean? Were you not comfortable with me?"

"No, I just... I'm just so used to sleeping on the floor. I did it for years. I haven't had a real bed in a long time. The closest I've had was the backseat, or a cot. But not a real bed. Definitely not one with a warm girl in it." I blushed, and he smirked. "But it's just... the comfort, the warmth... it's so weird to me. I'm just used to sleeping on the floor."

"But..." I said, "can't you get used to sleeping in a bed? It is comfortable, after all..."

"I have before, so I guess I could..."

"Then what's the problem?" I asked.

"I... could we sit, for a minute?"

"Sure." We sat on the edge of his bed.

"So, um..." he began, and he cleared his throat. He had trouble looking at me. I took his hand.

"You can just tell me," I said, copying what he'd said earlier. "All you have to do is just tell me." I smiled, and he tried to return it, but he just looked more worried, which puzzled me.

"I, uh..." he began again. "When you... when we were lying there, in your sleep, you kinda... you wrapped your arm around me, and your leg around my leg... I could feel how warm you were, and... and I got a little, uh, turned on, and... you know."

My face became red when I realized what he was telling me. "So... so you got..."

"Yeah," he said. "I would've just said it, but I was afraid of how you'd react."

"I made you... hard?" I asked quietly.

He smiled a little, and I guessed that he liked that I actually said it, which made me blush. He said, "Yeah, so I moved to the ground so you wouldn't wake up to that, and because I was more used to the ground anyways."

"How gentlemanly," I said, teasing. "But, honestly, you didn't have to do that."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Why not?"

"Because... I know that it can happen to guys out of nowhere, sometimes, and I still want to... to cuddle, with you, so... I guess what I'm saying is, I don't mind. I'm surprised it hasn't happened before."

"Well, actually..." he began.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, trying to avoid hearing him talk about it, "but I haven't _noticed_ it before. I probably wouldn't have if you didn't tell me."

"Oh, okay. I guess there was no point in all this, then."

"Well, actually..." I repeated, "it's kinda... hot, I guess, knowing that just me lying next to you makes you... turned on. And it's kinda cute that you tried to hide it just to be polite." I grinned at him.

John smiled back at me and said, "Well, since that problem's solved, do you want to _finally_ go to sleep?"

"More than anything right now," I replied.

We climbed into bed and resumed our previous position. His warmth, his scent, and his hands pushed me back into the hazy clouds of sleep again.

…..

(John's perspective)

He was terrified at first that she was gone, but then he found it kind of hilarious. And he was glad that she was so prepared in case he actually had disappeared.

When he told her about the... the being turned on thing, which was very difficult to word because he knew she hated bluntness, at least on sexual subjects, he was surprised at how she took it. He liked her response, actually. And he thought it was hot that she thought it was hot.

Now they cuddled again, which he thought once more was such a funny but amazing word, and he couldn't think about anything but her scent and her hair and her warmth. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt less worried about her warmth, but was instead simply happy that it was there.

…..

**[A/N: Comments? Questions? Likes? Dislikes? ANYTHING? Review, review, for the love of everything, REVIEW! More coming soon!]**


	15. Chapter 15-Fighting

**[A/N: I suck at getting these out fast enough. Sorry. Also, this one gets into more ~intense~ situations, but nothing really explicit. Enjoy!]**

…..

(Paige's perspective)

When I woke, I was in the same position John had described earlier. My arm was wrapped over his stomach, and my leg was wrapped over his, in between his legs. If you looked at it from an outside perspective, it was like I was halfway on top of him...

I wondered if he would get turned on when he woke up. If I was being totally honest with myself, I kinda wanted to see it... not entirely, but just for a minute, just to see what it looked like...

I needed to clear my head. But at the same time, I didn't want to move from where I was. Since he was still asleep, I didn't feel like I had to move away yet – if he was awake, I wouldn't dare be so closely wrapped around him for fear of embarrassment.

I thought about how he must've felt, with my leg where it was. Then I realized that I was basically in the same situation as him, just flipped over. His leg was between mine. And it was warm. I kind of understood how he felt...

Suddenly, I felt and heard John stir. I moved my leg and arm off of him so I was only closely curled against his side, not on his side. Suddenly, he spoke, his voice thick with sleep. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"When you were sleeping, you were really close to me. When _I_ was sleeping, you were really close to me. But whenever you have control over it or you think I'm watching, you move away from me. Why?"

"I don't know... I don't want you to think I'm too close, or too needy."

"Paige," he said, "trust me, you could never be too close." I knew he was smirking though I couldn't see his face. "And you're not needy. You're just... comfortable with me. We're comfortable with each other. Not too much, but we are."

After a moment of turning this over in my head, I agreed. "Alright," I said. "But I still just wanna lay like this for a bit."

"Fine with me," he said.

Really, I just wanted to lay like that so that the warmth of his leg wasn't between mine while he could see me react to it. But now that it was gone, I kind of wanted it back. I thought about what he said, about how I could never be too close. I wondered how close he wanted me to be.

I suddenly realized that I was shockingly turned on. I felt like I was on fire... so, in what was not one of my best moments, overall, I squeezed my legs together for relief. I had only done this once before – really recently, but once. I was hoping that I was being subtle about it, that John couldn't tell anything.

"Need a little help there?" I suddenly heard his voice and I could feel his breath on my hair.

"What? What for?" I asked, turning my head and looking up at him.

"Your legs," he said simply. I felt my cheeks get burning hot, and I was sure I was redder than a tomato. I swallowed. "I mean, you can't just let them do all the work by themselves," he continued. I could feel, more than see, his eyes moving down my body. I couldn't tell what it was, but something was making _him_ so eager, too. "I can help you, if you want," he said sort of quietly. I was expecting him to grin, or smirk, or something, but instead I saw a kind of excited look in his eyes.

I spoke very quietly. "What... what would that mean?" I asked, hopefully implying that I wasn't ready for anything yet.

"I don't know, what do you want it to mean?" he asked me as his face moved slowly towards mine.

"Not sex," I said, "but maybe..." I couldn't finish my sentence. For one, I couldn't think of what I wanted; two, John started to turn over until he was leaning over me, a hand in the hair behind my ear.

"How about I keep going," he said, and I could feel his breath on my mouth, "and you can tell me when I start to go too far."

…..

(John's perspective)

John could see it a minute or so after it started. He could see that Paige was squeezing her legs together, and he could tell that she had no idea he was watching it. That was why she wanted to move away from him, at least in that moment.

She was turned on. Like, really turned on. She had to have been. Just thinking about it turned him on a little... or a lot. John thought about how she must have been thinking about him, and then she would've been a little more needy than usual... and then she must have been aching, and needing relief. God, it was so hot to think about.

He thought about what he should say before he broke the silence. He wanted it to kinda confuse her for a second, so that she'd look up at him and realize what he meant later. Then he said it and she was confused, she did look up, and he was sure she realized later. Her face had gotten really red, which was funny and cute. He didn't know what it was, but when he mentioned anything about sex or even tried to turn her on, she would get into this little shell and become shy. It was adorable, even if at times he wanted to bring her out of it.

Then he kept leaning in, and leaning in, until he was basically breathing over her mouth, and he told her to stop when needed, but that he would keep going...

Paige looked up at him like she was astounded, and she just nodded her head. John crashed his lips onto hers and kissed her passionately. He moved the hand in her hair to her waist and started kissing down her neck.

Then he started to move. He moved himself so he was hovering over her, propped up on his elbow, and one of his legs was in between hers. By the time his lips worked their way back to hers, he was able to slip his arm around the back of her waist. When they went back to kissing, he started lowering himself to get closer to her, but he made sure to give her head enough room to move away so she could speak if she needed to.

Then he lowered his hips completely. At this John could almost feel the concern on Paige's lips, but she just kept kissing him and she didn't say anything. And finally, when their hips were aligned, John began to push his onto Paige's. He waited a little while to make sure he hadn't done something that wasn't okay with her. But before he could do it again, he could feel Paige's hips moving.

John began to pull away, grinning like an idiot, so he could make some sort of teasing remark. But he thought better of it when, before he could, she just pulled his face back to hers so that he was forced to keep kissing her.

After a few more seconds, they found a rhythm, and John felt everything. He moaned into Paige's mouth as their hips moved together. After he moaned, she moaned, too, which simply turned him on even more. John wanted to feel closer, infinitely closer, to her warmth, her motions – but he didn't want to push her too far.

But how far could he push it? He basically said that he'd lead the way. John continued to kiss Paige and tried to slowly reach for the hem of her shirt. So far so good. When he started moving it up, and he would've been able to see her midsection for the first time if they weren't making out, she stopped and pulled her head away. John stopped, too, and when he saw the look on her face he knew it was a no-go. So he nodded and leaned over to kiss her more.

It continued like this until, in an excruciatingly disappointing moment, John realized that they would have to stop sooner or later. He stopped moving his hips and then his mouth, and he pulled away, leaned back onto his side, and rested his arm over her midsection. Paige kept her hand on his cheek, and looked at him with a look he was not expecting – not of excitement, or nervousness, or disappointment, but more of love and just a hint, a smidgen, of... was it lust?

…..

(Paige's perspective)

It was the first time we'd made out lying down. He just started moving over me, and he was kissing me, and then his arm was around me, he started lowering himself...

And then he was leaning into me. His leg was between mine, like before, but he had aligned his hips to mine, and he pushed them into me. And it felt... I could feel it. It was ten times better than what I could do with my legs. And I felt worried, but I didn't want it to stop. He seemed hesitant for a moment, probably because I was worried, so I arched my hips up to his.

Of course, he pulled his head away grinning like a dork, and I knew he'd comment, but I didn't want to lose my confidence, so I pulled him back towards me. Soon, we found a rhythm, so the feel of it was twice as intense. I wondered what sex would be like, if this felt so amazing. John moaned into my mouth and I moaned into his, overwhelmed by the sense. I wanted to be closer to him, so much closer, but I didn't want it to go too far. I didn't even want John to take off my shirt yet, which he tried to do. I had to pull away and give him a look, and he just nodded wordlessly, so we continued. I hoped he didn't see anything.

John eventually stopped moving his hips, and the feeling was so intense I could've died, and then his lips left mine. He leaned back to where he was before and left his hand over my middle, and I left my hand on his cheek. I was sure my feelings were written all over my face, but I could see John's too. He looked, as always, with love, but there was a hit of excitement in there, like he couldn't wait any longer but knew he'd have to.

As much as I wasn't ready for sex, I didn't want to do that to him either.

…..

(John's perspective)

The following day was much worse than the morning. His teachers seemed to be in a bad mood, his friends were more obnoxious than usual, and those people that he didn't want to deal with were being exceptional assholes. It was like it was in the air or something. It didn't let him stay happy for long.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Everyone had the worst attitude at school that day. My teachers had a bone to pick with everyone, my friends seemed downright grumpy, and Ricky and his friends were more annoying than usual, but at least not towards me. It was like it was in their water or something. I wasn't as happy as I was in the morning for long.

…..

(John's perspective)

That night, Paige appeared at his door. He walked barely two steps in and asked, "You still want to sleep in the bed, right?"

Almost casually, she said, "Yeah, but just sleep, right?"

And without thinking, he snapped, "Why do you always assume it's anything different?" She just stared at him like she had no idea where it was coming from, and he had no idea either, but he felt agitated and was sick of her assumptions. "I'm not an animal," he continued.

"I never said you were one," she said defensively.

"Well, you implied it."

"Well, maybe if you weren't always pawing at me, I wouldn't have to imply it," she said tersely.

"You paw at me just as much," he retorted.

"But you coax me into it!" she shouted.

"It's not all my fault all the time! I gave you plenty of opportunities to stop!" And as soon as his voice raised to her level, it was like his anger separated from him, became its own person, and he had no control over it. He felt like it was the same for her.

"It's more complicated than that," she said.

"How? How is it more complicated than you thinking I'm a barbarian even though I've never forced you into anything?"

"Jesus, it just _is_! Why are you always questioning me? Can't I just keep things private for once?"

"Can't you just tell me something honestly for once?"

"Why do you keep accusing me?"

"_You_ accuse _me_!" John shouted. "You cried because you thought I'd do something awful to you, and you _know_ I wouldn't."

"You tricked me! You played an awful joke on me!"

"It was obviously not true, it was a _joke_," he said.

"You do a whole lot of joking," she said.

"And you don't?"

"Not like you!" she shouted.

"Because I can take your jokes!" he shouted.

"So, what, I can't take yours? I should _take_ you pretending to throw me out? That's a good laugh for you?"

"No, you treat me like I'm awful when I'm just trying to give you a laugh! It's not much to take that, it's a joke!"

"You don't seem to think I can take much of anything!"

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is it? What could it possibly be?"

"You think I'm the bad guy!" John shouted. "You think I'm some villain here to force you to have sex with me, and you and I both know that's not true!"

"I told you that it's more complicated than that!" Paige shouted back. "I don't think you're a villain until you start yelling at me!"

"You yelled at me first!"

"But guess who started it!"

"Can't you just act like you have a part in this? In any of this? It's not all me!"

"I know!"

"Then act like it!"

"Christ, we're just going in circles!"

"Don't change the subject," John said.

"I don't have to," she replied. He could see tears welling in her eyes as she walked back towards the door. The angry version of him that seemed to have done all this on its own had disappeared. And now, John's heart sank.

"Where are you going?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"Away from you," she snapped. And she went into her room and slammed the door shut.

John felt awful, but the anger and feelings he had still boiled underneath the surface.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Oh god, oh god, oh god, I shouldn't have done that. I was terrified to be alone, like I was an eight-year-old, but I couldn't go back there. That seemed to have come out of nowhere, but I suspected something might happen with everyone's mood being so crappy.

Still, it was like a whole different version of me and a whole different version of him were fighting, bringing up old shit, while our real selves were watching, unable to stop it. And everything spewed from my alternate self's lips without a second thought, before I could stop it and reevaluate what I was saying.

I regretted most of it, and I was ashamed that it was only most of it, because I still felt angry with him. He was assuming things about me, when really all that he thought I was doing was just fueled by fear. It wasn't my fault. And I positively, absolutely, definitely didn't think he was an animal or a villain.

It was like all of these things that we had been ignoring were finally coming to the surface, and neither of us could handle any of it. And I couldn't handle it at all. We had just really fought for the first time since we started dating, and it made me want to curl up in a ball and never see the light of day again. But more than that, ironically, it made me want to talk to John. I missed him in such a weird way, but he was right, I did have a part in this, and I couldn't ignore it but was too angry to apologize.

Every little noise I heard, every creak the house made or animal that passed outside, freaked me the hell out. I couldn't sleep in my bed, so I locked my door, grabbed my gun, pillow, and blanket, and set myself up in my closet. I shut the door and locked that too, so that either nothing could find me or I'd be prepared enough to kill it.

And I felt so awful, so guilty but so angry at the same time, and overall alone and scared, that I quietly cried myself to sleep.

…..

(John's perspective)

John couldn't face Paige. Not after what he did. He felt guilty, but still angry, and he was almost afraid to try to apologize. Afraid that she wouldn't forgive him, and afraid that it wouldn't sound sincere.

Breakfast was awkward. His mom must have decided to say nothing, for some reason. Paige ate quickly and left a full ten minutes ahead of John, probably to avoid talking to him. They didn't talk at all when they saw each other at school, and John left quickly to avoid seeing her on the way home. It was like neither one of them wanted to acknowledge each other's existence. His heart felt heavy.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

The whole day, before, during, and after school, was awful. We ignored each other all day and I was sick of it. Sarah said nothing, which made me suspicious, I walked ahead of him to school, he walked ahead of me after, and we didn't look in each other's direction in the halls. We were refusing to believe that the other existed, and it made my heart sink.

That night and the whole next day continued almost the same way.

…..

(John's perspective)

The next morning, when John was in the hall, he could hear Paige's closet door open. He looked in the crack of the door to see where the movement was, because he couldn't see any actual part of her. The movement popped up from the ground and moved out of the closet's direction.

He went back to his room, and when she went to the bathroom, he sneaked inside and saw her pillow, blanket, and gun on her closet floor.

He felt even worse now.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

At the end of the second school day that we ignored each other, I was walking alone in the hall to leave. I had been wary of Ricky and his friends since I knew I'd be walking alone, and Sophia had been absent for the past week or so. I had been carrying the pepper spray in my back pocket.

I walked down the hall when I heard what I expected. Ricky, from behind me, approaching my side, said, "Hey," he said in English, which he usually only uses with me, "you look lonely. Want me to walk with you?'

"No, thanks," I said flatly, not looking at him. He was walking with a friend, and they kept walking with me anyways. "Leave me alone, please," I said.

"What's the matter, your brother's not here to protect you – I mean walk with you?" The way he said that, unfortunately, did freak me out, and I showed it on my face. "I'll walk with you, but you do still owe me something."

I swallowed and said, "I don't owe you shit," as strongly as I could.

"No, you owe me a kiss," he said. He grabbed my arm and shoved me with it against the locker, leaning in. What the fuck was his obsession with me? I twisted my arm away and grabbed and bent back his fingers, making him move away from me, and I tried to get away from them. But it only angered him more, and he said, "Fucking bitch, grab her."

His buddy pulled me back by the arm, and he was even stronger than Ricky. I reached with my other arm to get the pepper spray in my back pocket, but Ricky recovered surprisingly fast and held it against the locker. Before I could try to do anything more, he kissed me, and it was one of the grossest experiences of my life. I recoiled in disgust, and his friend said, "_More cooperative now, aren't you_?" in Spanish.

Ricky said, "Very," and laughed.

"Let me go, you assholes!" I screamed. "If you don't let me go, I swear I'll –"

"Never mind," Ricky said, "she's quite feisty." They laughed. He said, "Let's experiment, shall we? You know, you're the only girl I haven't done this with, you're so stubborn like a mule." I didn't know what "this" meant but I quickly got the answer as, while I struggled to get away, to kick, to do anything that wouldn't make it worse, him and his friend grabbed my breasts. They squeezed and they hurt me and I was sure there were bruises on my arms, they were pushing against me so hard, and I screamed, so his friend covered my mouth and pressed my head against the locker. Ricky grabbed at and groped my butt, and he felt the pepper spray in my back pocket.

"What's this?" he asked, and he pulled it out. I saw my chance and took it. I kicked him in the groin as hard as I could, and he loosened his grip enough to let me snatch the pepper spray from him. Then, I sprayed his friend in the eyes before he knew what was happening, and before he could get up, I sprayed Ricky. I sprayed them enough that I may have gone overboard, but I didn't care. And once I was free, I ran faster than ever back to the house.

When I got there, I ran to my room, shut the door, and processed what just happened. The adrenaline of trying to get away hadn't let me freak out for a moment, but now that I was okay, I couldn't take it.

They touched me. They kissed me and touched me in places they never should have even seen from a distance and they enjoyed it and laughed like it was a joke and they were going to hurt me even worse than they did and who knows how far they would've taken it.

I shuddered and sobbed and cried and hugged myself, but I felt so gross and dirty that I didn't even want to do that, I didn't even want to be in my room, and god, I still had the memory of their hands and the bruises were starting to form on my arms and I didn't know how I could ever wash this away. I needed the memory of their hands away from me.

I needed John. I needed him desperately, but he probably hated me, and he'd probably hate me even more now. But I had to convince him to not be mad as quickly as possible, to just touch me and kiss me and wipe the memory away, but I couldn't tell him or everything would be worse.

I thought for a moment and irrationally figured that if I just jumped him, he would be too turned on to care what was happening and would think everything was okay, at least long enough for him to touch me, for me to feel clean again.

I ran to my dresser and I took off all of my clothes that I knew I'd have to burn or something at some point and I wore panties and a big T-shirt, so that it covered my butt but showed my legs, and I did it all without actually thinking for more than five seconds. I glanced in the hall to see if someone was there, and then I ran to John's room and knocked on the door.

I tried to keep my nerve and my thoughts were racing and jumbled and I couldn't think about what happened anymore, I just had to think about John touching me. When he opened the door, I needed him so badly that I just grabbed his face and started kissing him and kissing him and then I put my tongue in his mouth so I could taste him. Then I latched onto him and shut the door with my foot and began pushing him back towards the bed.

He fell back, and he still seemed to be startled, but I didn't care because I needed his hands on me. I straddled his middle and I had to come up for air, so to speak, so I started kissing his jaw and made it to his ear and whispered, somewhat frantically, "I'm ready," and I kissed his neck, "and we can do anything you want," another kiss, "and I'm not wearing a bra," and I kept kissing him.

"Paige, what are you –" but before I let him finish I bit his neck and I rocked my hips into him, grabbing his hands and placing them on my hips. I tried to guide them down to my ass, so that he would touch me there and wash it away. He moaned deeply in the middle of his sentence. "_Wait_, I just... this isn't..." but he struggled to say anything.

I could tell that he wanted to give in, and that was what I wanted for now, so I kept going with my hips and I licked his neck and I moved his hands further down my hips. He moaned again and let them move down, feeling my almost bare ass. This feeling was enjoyable, or at least that's what I told myself, and it was going away.

I started kissing him on the lips again, and I made him move his hands up my stomach, but he stopped and gently grabbed my arms and I yelped into his mouth. He pulled away and said, "Why are you –"

I interrupted and said, "_Please_," and then I tried to keep kissing him and take his hands again because Jesus, I needed them on my chest to wash it away and I needed him to kiss me back more than he was. "_Please_," I said again, and then he looked at me with such a perplexed look. "Please, _please_, I just need you to touch me, please."

I realized that he was just lying there and that I was doing everything, and that wasn't good enough. He didn't respond. "Please," I begged again, quieter, catching my breath. He ran his hands up and squeezed my arms, probably to comfort me, but it made me wanna puke. "Don't do that," I snapped.

"Do what?" he said, astonished, and he held them tighter.

"That, let go, let go!" I shouted, hysterical. I couldn't stand one more second, so I ripped my arms away and almost fell off of him and I stood in my T-shirt and underwear. Then I took in a shaky breath and began to realize how ridiculous this must have looked to him, but I still wasn't thinking clearly.

He began to get up and walk towards me, the concern on his face evident, but I couldn't let him know and let him be mad at me, and I couldn't have him come and try to get it out of me. He got too close and I didn't want to be touched anymore, I was so ashamed, so I shouted, "Stop, stop, get away from me! Don't touch me!" He held his hands up defensively and was quite obviously dumbfounded.

"Paige, what's going on?" he asked.

"Nothing, nothing's going on, just don't... don't touch me."

"Why? Just a second ago you were begging me to touch you." He began to walk towards me, and I backed away, feeling like a cornered animal.

"Please, please, just don't touch me," I said, then quieter, "just don't touch me."

"Tell me what's going on," he said. "Is this about us fighting?"

"No," I said, "no, it's not about us fighting."

"Then what?"

"Nothing."

"You don't come in here after we ignored each other, half dressed, hop on top of me, beg me to touch you, and then demand that I stay away from you for just _nothing_."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be, just tell me what's going on."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll hate me," I said quietly. "Because something happened and it's all my fault, John, it's all my fault and you'll never wanna look at me and fuck, I don't think I'll ever feel clean again." It all spilled out, and he stared at me with wide eyes.

"Paige," John said, "what happened? Something's really wrong, I know it, and you can't just keep this from me." I stared at the floor and considered my options. For the first time in a couple of hours, I actually thought, but it still wasn't rational, since it was fueled by fear and shame. I could tell John and have him disgusted by me, or I could keep it from him and have him hate me.

I began to feel cold so I pulled the hem of my shirt down. I felt uncomfortable and self-conscious just standing there, especially half dressed, and I felt like John could tell, but I tried to ignore it.

I took in a deep, shaky breath, and spoke just loud enough for him to hear. "I was walking to leave, in the hallway, and... and..." John looked at me intently. I looked at the floor, afraid to make eye contact. "Ricky... he and his friend came up next to me, and eventually they pushed me against the lockers, and they held down my arms..." A hard lump formed in my throat and tears welled in my eyes. "And they... they... kissed me, and they... they started touching me," tears were now rolling down my cheeks, "and I couldn't do anything, because I was afraid it would make it worse, and I'm sorry, John, I'm so, so sorry, they just kept pushing me, and touching me, and I... I..." The sobs took over, and my voice croaked, and I covered my face with my hands.

"Paige, Jesus," John said, "please let me get near you, please." I hugged myself and nodded between sobs, taking in uneven breaths. His arms were around me in less than a second. He pulled me so close that all I could feel was him, and it started to wash away the memory, but only partially.

"Don't ever apologize for something like this," he said. "Don't you fucking dare. This is not your fault. Do you understand me? This is the opposite of your fault. The last person whose fault this is is you. This is not your fault." He paused. "If anything, this is my fault. I shouldn't have made you walk alone. I shouldn't have yelled at you in the first place. God, Paige, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry this happened to you."

I couldn't contain the sobs, the tears, or anything, and I shook badly in his arms and made awful noises as I cried into his chest. "Fuck, this was all my fault," he continued. "I'm so sorry, Paige, I'm so sorry. I wish I could take the pain from you. I would if I could." He stayed silent as I cried for a few minutes, trying to let it out and clear my head as I took in the feel and smell of him as much as I could. Soon, the crying settled to me gasping and taking in sudden, shallow breaths as I trembled against him. Then he spoke again. "Did they..." he began, "did they... rape you?"

"No," I said quietly between breaths.

"Why did you say you didn't feel clean?"

"All I could feel..." I said, my irregular breathing making me pause, "was their hands and mouths... I needed something to wash it away."

"Is that why you tackled me?"

"I... couldn't let you... stay mad. I needed you... to wash it away."

"Paige, if something like this happens, no matter how mad we are at each other, I will do anything to make it better. I promise." I didn't feel the need to reply. "Do you feel clean now?" I shook my head no against him. He paused a moment. "Go take a hot shower. Take as long as you need. I'll be here when you get out."

"I..." I said, "I can't go in my room. I just can't... look in there, at my clothes."

"Okay... I'll get you some clothes, and then you can change in here while I wait in the hall. Is that okay?" I thought for a moment.

"Even..." I said, pausing to sniffle, "even my... my underwear?" I kept pulling down my shirt, feeling more ashamed by the second.

"Oh, shit, well... I'll just grab it, and then I'll never touch it or look at it again, I promise. If you're okay with that, anyway."

"Um..." I still didn't feel totally sure, but a shower sounded good and I really couldn't go in my room to see those clothes on the floor. I wouldn't be able to think if I knew he touched them to get them out, so I let him and tried not to feel weird about it. "Okay," I said meekly.

"It'll be okay," he said, leaning back to look me in the eyes, but I didn't meet his gaze. "When you get out you'll have fresh clothes and I'll be here for you."

"Thank you," I said quietly, still not making eye contact. "And can you... can you get me a long sleeved shirt, please?" I pulled the edge of mine down again.

"Sure," he said, and then he gently tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

…..

(John's perspective)

Those fucking bastards were going to pay.

He tried to tell her it would be okay, but she kept talking so quietly and never looked at him. She asked for a long sleeved shirt, and she was pulling more at her shirt to cover herself. Normally, he would have loved seeing her like that – if she actually wanted him to. But now, it was just something that made him want to wrap her in a blanket, so she'd stop tugging at her shirt to try to hide herself more. He didn't want to make her explain, so he said yes to the shirt and tucked hair behind her ear as gently as he could.

She went into the bathroom, and when he could hear the water running, he entered her room. The only evidence of anything was her clothes strewn across the floor, which was probably what she didn't want to see. He went to her dresser.

With her in the other room, he could let himself think about how pissed he was. Those fucking giant, gaping assholes were going to regret even looking in her general direction. Even walking in the same school as her. Even being in the same country. God, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to kick both of their asses. It was like the anger from the pushing times four. He breathed.

As he looked in her shirt drawer for something long sleeved, he distracted his anger with her clothes. He thought about how she must've picked out clothes in the mornings. He smiled to himself, wondering if he was ever a factor. He grabbed a long sleeved sweatshirt, put it on top of some pajama pants, and then moved to the quickest part of the ordeal.

He tried his best to keep his promise, quickly looking to make sure it was actually underwear and a bra, snatching it and then placing it on top of the pile. He thought about what else she might need, so he grabbed a hairbrush and some socks.

He waited on the edge of his bed for her.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I went into the bathroom and made sure I had a towel, and then I took a deep breath. I made the water as hot as I could possibly stand it. I scrubbed my entire body until I felt raw, like my skin had been removed along with the soap, and then I felt better. At least, mostly better.

When I wrapped myself in a towel, my hair a tangled mess, I had no idea how long it had been. I went to John's room, where the door was already open. I looked at him and he caught my eye, standing up when I entered the room, but I looked down as before, not able to make eye contact. He walked towards me, and I felt increasingly aware of the fact that I was wearing only a towel. "Here," he said. He handed me a pile of my clothes and a hairbrush.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

"I'll give you some privacy," he said, and then he left the room, shutting his door behind him. When he was gone, I felt less naked, less exposed, even though there was nothing on display in the first place.

I smelled my clothes. They smelled clean, comforting. I got dressed and brushed my hair, pulling it over to the side. The fact that I was covered, that my bruised arms and legs that were shown too much were blocked from view, made me want to hide in a corner a lot less. I opened the door, where John was patiently waiting. He came in.

"Do you wanna sit?" he asked. I nodded. "Is the ground okay?" I nodded again. He sat first, and then I sat next to him, never making eye contact for more than a split second. My body was covered, but what I admitted and the way I felt wasn't. I was scared to move closer to him, so I waited for him to move first. "Do you wanna come closer?" was what he asked instead. I scooted towards him in response. He put his arm around me, but it didn't feel like enough.

"I love you," I said quietly. I felt like I had to cry, but I didn't want to.

"I love you, too, Paige, always." He paused and pulled me closer. I played with the sleeves of my shirt. "Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything at all? You can tell me all of it, or some of it, or nothing. It's okay if it's nothing."

I thought for a moment. "I'm sorry, about the fighting. And I'm sorry I ignored you."

"I am, too," he said.

"I don't think you're an animal, but I'm sorry if I acted like it." I still spoke very quietly.

"I don't think you can't take anything, but I'm sorry if I acted like it," he almost repeated. "In fact, I know you can handle a lot. And I'm sorry I accused you of that. I just... it was just hard to see you afraid, and probably not of me, but of things you thought I might do."

"I'm sorry that I... tackled you. I didn't mean to be so... I just... I needed you. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry that you felt like you had to do that."

"What if..." I said after a moment, beginning what had been on my mind a while, "what if they... they..."

"I wouldn't love you any less," John said immediately, "or look at you differently. And I'd have to kill both of them. Jail would suck, but I'd have to kill both of them." I knew he was trying to joke, to make the situation more lighthearted, but the most I could give him was an unenthusiastic half-smile. He hugged my shoulders tightly for a moment and simply said, "I know." I could feel him staring at me, and it made me want to crawl under the bed.

"What?" I asked lowly, somewhat annoyed, still not looking at his face.

"Are you ever gonna look at me?" he asked. I pressed my lips together, trying not to cry. "Why won't you?"

I summed up my courage to speak. "It's embarrassing," I said. "I know you said it's not my fault, but I feel like I just..." I got another hard lump in my throat, and the tears were welling in my eyes again. "I felt like I should've done something more, anything. I shouldn't have ignored you so we would walk together, or I shouldn't have talked to them in the first place, or I should have kicked more, or screamed more, or anything. And I feel... I feel cleaner, but I feel... dirty, in the wrong kind of way. I feel wrong. I feel ashamed. I feel like no amount of clothes I put on or showers I take can cover it up." I swallowed hard.

"I don't want you to feel embarrassed," he said. "And, you could have done something. But so could I. So could they. So could a teacher, or anyone. But in the end, there really wasn't anything that could've been done, because we can only know to change things after they've been done, but after that it's too late.

"And, God, Paige, you are not dirty. You didn't start it or ask for it, so you're not dirty. It's not wrong, of you at least. And don't be ashamed, because it really wasn't your fault. It was those fucks." I could almost feel his anger. "And Paige, if covering yourself up until I can't see you anymore and spending half of your life in the shower will help you feel better, even a little bit, then do that. But I just want you to know that there's nothing more you need to wash off or over up, for me anyways. To me, you're still as pure and beautiful as ever."

"Thank you," I said. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Me neither," he said. I managed to have a true half-smile this time. "So, can you look at me now? Even if it's just for five seconds?"

"Yes," I said. He pulled away from me so we could face each other, and then he took my hands and squeezed them very lightly. I could see how he was trying to be very gentle with me. I looked at his hands for a moment, and then raised my eyes to his, which were on me. I counted. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

But I hadn't looked into his eyes in so long, I couldn't stop. I felt so overwhelmed. I started to cry, the tears less of sadness and more of relief, of longing, of pain. And my eyes were still on his. He lifted one of his hands and stroked my cheek. After about fifteen more seconds, I couldn't take it anymore, and I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him more intensely than I thought capable. He hugged me back the same way. "I love you, John," I said, raising my voice to a normal level for the first time in a long time. "I love you so much, it seems impossible."

"I love you too, Paige," he said, running his hand up and down my back, which was so comforting, to say the least. I could feel his voice, and it felt heavenly. "I love you more than imaginable." He took a deep breath. "Everything's gonna be okay now, I promise."

And for the first time in what seemed like years, I actually felt like it was.

…..

**[A/N: That one was a long one, I know. It would be difficult for me to split up. I hope it's understood that when Paige kind of runs her sentences together with lots of "ands" it's because it's her thoughts quickly running together, and there are no grammar rules in your thoughts! As always, review, tell me anything, tell me how your breakfast was or your theory on how the Mayans played sports, or especially, how the story was. You could even message me. Thanks!]**


	16. Chapter 16-Better

**[A/N: For those of you messaging me, even if it's just requests, you guys are awesome :) ]**

…..

(John's perspective)

He was glad that they had gotten everything out in the open now. He wanted to hold her there, with him, forever, just stroking her back and talking with her and feeling her warmth against him. And they did hold on to each other for a while, until Paige finally pulled away.

"What, um," she said, looking nervous, "what do I tell Sarah?"

John hadn't thought of it until then. He was too busy trying to make sure she was alright. "Do you want to tell her anything?"

"I don't know," she said. "I feel like she should know, but I don't know how she'd react. I don't know if she would... react differently."

"The worst that'll happen is she'll make you train more, or maybe be upset that we were fighting. I think she'll mostly be upset with me, since I wasn't there to help you. But she won't be mad that it happened, if that's what you're worried about."

"I just..." she said, playing with the sleeves of her shirt again, "I don't want her to... think of me differently. It was hard enough telling you."

"She won't think of you differently," he tried to assure her. "And... well, maybe I could tell her." She looked at him like she was saying, _Are you sure?_ "She'll understand," he said. "It's hard to tell people, and it's obvious that you'd be torn up about it."

Paige looked like she was thinking about it, like she wasn't sure, and John was wondering why she didn't jump at the opportunity. "No," she said finally, "I... I feel like it's something I should tell her."

"Okay then," John said, "that's fine too. Do you want me to do it with you?"

She thought a moment. "No," she said again, "thank you, but I think I want to do it by myself."

"Alright," he said. He was surprised that she was so willing to face Sarah, considering the fact that she still wasn't very used to her. They had grown close, he noticed, but there was something about how direct his mother was that made Paige sometimes afraid to talk to her. He could sense a lingering fear that she would treat Paige differently, or dislike her in some way. He could see how much she wanted Sarah to like her.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I just wanted her to like me. I know she already did, but I wanted her not to like me just because her son liked me, but because she genuinely wanted me to be there. I really liked her, though I was a little annoyed or a bit afraid of her sometimes. She treated people with respect, when they deserved it, and she didn't like to worry about petty things and beating around the bush. I liked that about her, because, while sometimes it was hard to talk to her, she was someone that gave good, honest advice. And she could be pretty funny and cheerful, if she wanted to.

I went downstairs and found her folding laundry in the living room. Recently, she had taken a job at a nearby restaurant as a waitress to try to earn more money for saving and things like groceries. She had grown more into the motherly role, folding laundry, making food, taking care of everyone. But underneath her household responsibilities, I knew she was still a kick-ass, get-things-done type of person.

"Hey, Sarah," I said, "could we talk for a second?"

"Sure," she said. "Is this something John should be here for?"

"No, I, uh, already told him." She gave me a look like she wasn't so sure I was telling the truth. "Can we sit?" I asked. She nodded.

We sat down on the couch, and I tried to look at her without looking afraid. "What happened?" she asked.

"I guess you know that John and I were fighting, I guess," I said, "right?" She nodded. "Well, uh, you remember why you gave me that pepper spray a little while ago?" She nodded again. "That same kid at school, the one named Ricky..." It was hard to say his name without wanting to gag. "He and his friend caught up with me when I was leaving, and there was no one in the hall, and..." It was difficult to say with her looking at me, and I wanted to cry again, but I swallowed and took a deep breath. "They hurt me, and they... they touched me." I pressed my lips together and played with the sleeves of my shirt to try to calm myself. "I just thought you should know."

Sarah looked down, like she was thinking, and I was afraid of what she was going to say. "First of all," she said, "I'm sorry that happened." I breathed a sigh of relief. "Can I ask you, did they only touch you outside of your clothes?" I nodded. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"They, um..." I said, trying to just get it out. "They pushed back my head, so that's sore, and they pushed back on my arms pretty hard, so I think they're bruised. Other than that, no... not physically." She nodded again.

"How did you get away?" she asked.

"I had the spray in my back pocket, and he took it out without knowing what it was, and I kicked him and grabbed it and sprayed them both. Before that... they were too strong and I was afraid that trying to get away would make it worse. It... it kind of already did."

"What do you mean?"

"One of them grabbed me at first, and I twisted away and bent back his hand, but he only got angrier with me."

She nodded again, and it seemed like she was trying to put something together. "You need to start weight training. I need you to be stronger." I nodded. "And next time you're walking alone, don't leave the spray in your pocket. Threaten to spray anyone if you get uncomfortable, and always threaten to spray those assholes if they even come slightly near you." I nodded again. Suddenly, her tone changed, and she looked at me differently. "Me telling you this is to prevent something like this from happening again, but I know you didn't know, and I don't blame you for this, okay?"

"I know," I said, even though it was nice to hear, "thank you."

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" she asked. I felt almost happy that she offered this, since it wasn't really her obligation, and I felt like she really cared.

"Um," I said, thinking, "John seems really mad, and... I don't know what's going to happen at school. I'm worried they're gonna fight. Or, really, that he's gonna kick his ass."

Sarah smiled, like she was amused. "If you really don't want him to, talk to him. But otherwise, it might make that kid afraid. That he should be scared to hurt you even when John's not around. I'm not condoning fighting, but trying to tell someone might make things worse, since that kid'll get angry and he might not get punished. But if you do nothing he'll think of you as a target."

"You're saying I should let John beat him up?"

"All I'm saying is, scare him a little. But make sure he doesn't do anything that'll get him in trouble."

"Alright then," I said, shocked even though I knew I really shouldn't have been.

Sarah looked at me for a moment. "I don't think you should go to school for a few days," she said. "Not until you feel really ready to possibly face him again."

"That sounds like a good idea," I said, grateful that she offered it so I wouldn't have to worry.

She stared at me again, like she was trying to figure me out for a minute. "Are you alright?" she asked. "You seem... too okay."

"I'm... no," I began, letting out a breath, "no, I don't think I am."

"Come here, Paige," she said, her arms open. I felt like I was dreaming. I accepted the hug, and I let some tears fall. "You're one of the strongest kids I know," she told me. "I just hope you know that. You're stronger than you think, in so many ways."

"Thank you, Sarah," I said. "Thanks for all of this."

"No problem," she said. "If you need anything else, let me know." I nodded and pulled away.

…..

(John's perspective)

"How'd it go?" John asked when she came back upstairs. 

"Really well, actually," Paige replied.

"I thought it would," he said. John smiled to himself a little. He had, admittedly, actually listened in to their conversation a bit. Actually, he could hear it from his room for the most part, so it wasn't entirely his doing – but it was still something he was doing without them knowing, which he felt a little guilty about.

He heard more details about what really happened, and it made him a little angrier. He never knew her head was sore, but he thought he saw signs of bruising on her arms. He heard that she bent back his fingers and used the pepper spray, which he thought was awesome, since he basically wished the both of them would go blind anyways.

His mother's response and advice was something he liked and appreciated, even though it wasn't for him. He was actually surprised – he felt like she could change the way she talks and reacts to someone based on who they are. He reacted to Paige the way Paige needed to be reacted to.

He found it amusing that she was worried about him kicking Ricky's ass, not fighting him, because he was sure she knew that it wouldn't be a fight if one side wasn't able to even a punch. And he still did want to do that, but if she didn't want him to, he knew he'd have to swallow his anger.

His mother suggested that she stay out of school for a few days, which he agreed with. He didn't want Ricky to see her torn up about what he did, because he knew that dipshit would just find it hilarious.

And when he heard her say that she wasn't okay, he wanted to run downstairs and hug her with his mother, as cheesy as it was. He wanted her to feel like her old self again.

His mom was right: she was stronger than she thought. He hoped she knew that too. Paige told him almost all of what he already knew, what she thought was all he needed to know.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

After a couple of hours and a dinner that made me feel even more exhausted than I already had been, John and I went back to his room. He looked at me and said, "Okay, so... are we still going to sleep in the bed?" The question made sense, since we hadn't for a couple of days.

However, I felt kind of uncomfortable. I felt weird doing something that would bring me so close to John after all of the day's events, especially when I had been so... forward. But all I wanted was to smell him again, to be wrapped in his warmth and no one else's. My stomach was churning.

John must have seen the look on my face. "We don't have to if you don't want to," he said.

"I, uh..." I said, thinking about how tempting it was to lie next to him. "I want to," I quietly added.

"Alright," he said. He went to the bed, and I followed, the two of us pulling back the covers. He got in, and once again I followed his lead, but I kept a solid half-foot between us when we were lying down. His head turned to look at me and I felt more uncomfortable, knowing that he knew how unusual this was. I wanted to be near him so badly, but I felt... as irrational and stupid as it was, I felt like he would judge me for it. Like he would think I was too ready to be held after being so hurt earlier. And my skin felt sensitive all over. I felt everything, and it made me want to feel John's comfort, but it was like everything was too intense. I couldn't understand any of it. John's stare made me want to disappear.

"Yeah?" I said, pretending to look in his direction but avoiding eye contact.

He looked at me for another moment, like he was figuring me out even though I didn't know either, and I kind of wanted to swat him. Finally, he said, "You can get as close or stay as far as you need to." As I laid on the bed next to him, he slowly reached his hand down to mine and, very gently, took it into his. I felt like I wanted to cry again. I squeezed his hand and pulled mine away, and then, like we were magnets, I felt myself being pulled towards him through some invisible force. My arm wrapped over him and I rested my head on his chest, and his arm wrapped around me. He stroked my arm with his thumb.

After a minute I had to ask him something. "John?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," he said.

My voice stayed low. "Can you do me a favor tomorrow? I want... I want those clothes in my room gone. I don't care how, I just can't look at them again."

"Yeah," he said, and I felt relieved, "yeah, of course. Shit, I'll burn them."

"You don't have to do that," I said, "but just... wash your hands after wards. And thank you."

"You're welcome," he said simply. He pulled me closer and kept stroking my arm.

"I love you," I said after another minute, and I was sure he said it back, but by then I was asleep.

…..

(John's perspective)

The next day, John left before Paige got up. When he woke, she was very close to him again. It always puzzled him why she wouldn't just do that when she was awake. He slipped out of the bed, trying not to wake her.

He went into her room and picked up the clothes strewn on the ground and grabbed a lighter on his way outside. The clothes were in flames outside in minutes. His hands were thoroughly cleaned after.

At school, he was really ready to kick some ass, but he didn't want to do anything out of nowhere. As entirely pissed as he was, he didn't want to worry Paige or get into serious trouble, and he still had a bit of a moral sense left in him.

But then Ricky had to push it. In the hall, he tried to make a joke of everything. "Hey John," he said, walking up to him, "how's your sister?" He gave a disgusting grin. "I hope she's feeling well," he said, "for next time." John couldn't hold on for one more second. He grabbed his shoulders and slammed him into the wall. Then he pressed his forearm horizontally across his neck, not hard enough to choke him, but hard enough to make him think he would. He grabbed his hand and did as Paige did, bending it back. "Ah, fuck, that hurts!" he shouted, much to John's satisfaction.

"If you ever," John said, "_ever_, go near her again, talk to her, look in her general direction, even acknowledge her existence, _ever_, you won't be able to have a next time with anyone ever again. It will hurt a lot more than this. Same goes for your fuckhead friends. Got it? You've never heard of Paige and you'll never know who she is for the rest of your pathetic life."

"Okay, I got it!" He was so much more of a wimp when he got what came to him. He _was_ pathetic – the only people he could act tough around were girls weaker than him.

"Say it," John said, "say that you've never heard of her and you'll never know who she is for the rest of your life."

"Alright, I – I've never heard of Paige and I'll never know her for the rest of my life!"

"What type of life?" he asked, pressing his fingers back more.

"Ow! My pathetic life!"

"You better warn your fucking friends," he said, "or I'm coming for them too. Now get out of my fucking sight." He slammed him again against the wall again and let him go. Ricky ran away like a scared little kid. "Remember what you said!" he shouted to him.

He wasn't _really_ going to kill him, or anything like that, despite what he told him and Paige. But if they did touch her again, he'd definitely hurt them worse than he did. Maybe now he could move past thinking about that stupid shit-for-brains.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I missed John the whole day. When he got home, I hugged him for a solid two minutes. It doesn't seem like much, but two minutes is a long hug.

He smiled at me and said, "Wanna watch a movie tonight?"

"Sure," I said.

And sure enough, some odd hours later, we were on the couch watching a movie together, and I felt happy. His arm was wrapped around me throughout and I rested my head on his shoulder as he rested his on my head. When the movie was over, he playfully picked me up off the couch and carried me to his room while I giggled the whole way there, some of the first laughter I'd had in a while. We sat on his bed and then he looked at me and held my hand. His eyes met mine.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked kindly.

"Why are you asking?" I said, even though I really knew the answer.

"I just... I don't wanna do anything that'll make you uncomfortable. And I don't wanna seem like I have my paws all over you after everything that happened. I just... I missed you. I haven't really kissed you in a while, even just a plain kiss." It made me blush a little to know how he missed just kissing me, and I think he held back a grin. And I really did miss kissing him too.

"You can kiss me," I said, "thanks for asking." He smiled and looked into my eyes, and then looked down at my lips. I squeezed his hand the more he leaned in, I felt so weirdly excited. He laughed a little and kissed me, making me let out a small sigh as I closed my eyes. My hand reached for his cheek, and I pulled his face towards me to signal that I wanted more. I opened my mouth a little. My stomach was flipping over and over as he copied me, and soon our tongues were dancing. It felt right, and I'd missed it so much.

After a little while, John moved a hand to my waist, and I took in a sharp breath, moving it with my other hand. I pulled away, feeling like I needed to say something. "I'm... I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't apologize," he said. "It's fine, really."

I gave him a small, thankful grin before leaning in to kiss him more.

…..

(John's perspective)

John was pissed still. Not at Paige, and not even necessarily at those douchebags, but he was pissed.

She had gotten so comfortable with him, so opened up to him, and he loved it. Now, because of this, she was back in a shell, and he wanted to smash it to pieces if she weren't what's inside. The two of them touching and kissing was definitely a bonus, but he really loved how close they'd gotten, and now he felt like it was all ripped away from him. Her willingness to ask for things and be close and kiss and touch and talk about personal things had peaked earlier in the week, and now it it was just gone. And it was basically his fault.

So, correction, he wasn't really pissed. He was just disappointed in himself. But he wasn't about to wallow in it, because there was nothing he could do to go back and change it. He just wanted to work on it now. He wanted Paige to be her old self again.

When they were cuddling – he, admittedly, loved that word because of her – she was mostly silent, aside from the occasional deep breath or response to him.

Finally she spoke first. "I'm really sorry about earlier," she said. "I know it didn't seem like much, and it was kind of a small thing to draw the line with, but I feel like I kinda... led you on. I didn't want to push you away."

Why was she stuck on that?

"It doesn't matter how small it is," John said, "if you didn't feel okay with it that's that. Like I said, you don't need to apologize to me. It's not like I own you. And you didn't lead me on, you kissed me. There's no obligation past that, or at any point, really."

"Yeah," she said, like she halfheartedly agreed.

He didn't know what else to say, so he just said, "I love you, Paige."

"I love you, too," she said, and it was something he knew would sound wholehearted.

John thought for a moment. "I think," he said, "this weekend, we should go out."

Paige looked up at him and her eyes lit up, and then she looked as though she was trying to hide her excitement. "Like, go _out_, go out?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling at her childlike gaze. "I don't know, we haven't really been anywhere, and there is stuff to do. It'd be fun, my treat. We can do whatever, it can be silly, or crazy, or exciting, or adventurous, or even romantic, if you want it to be."

She smiled wide, which he loved to see. "Why is it what I want it to be?" she asked.

"I don't know. I wanna take you out, watch you have fun. I feel like you need it, and I wanna give it to you."

"That's..." she said, smiling to herself a little, "really sweet. Thank you."

John thought that maybe this would get her out of her shell again, make her feel normal again. "No problemo," he joked, and seeing her laugh at that and smile and get so excited with her whole face glowing really made it so.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I did feel bad about earlier. I felt like I should have been okay with him doing something so simple, especially because of everything we'd done before. But something in me just wanted to kiss him, nothing more.

I was so excited to go out. When John said it, I looked up at him to see if he was serious, and I knew I looked excited. But I didn't want to seem like a child, so I hid it when I asked if he meant out and actually away from the house – into town. He said there was actually stuff to _do_. And then he said it could be how I wanted it to be, even romantic. I tried not to blush at the thought, but I couldn't help smiling.

The fact that he said he wanted to take me out and watch me have fun, like he just wanted me to enjoy myself and give me a good day, made my heart flutter. I smiled to myself and told him how sweet it was. Of course, I didn't want it to just be me having fun, because then it wouldn't be as fun for me. I wanted to do it with John.

When he said "No problemo," I couldn't help laughing and smiling widely. It seemed to make John happy, too: his whole face lit up and he laughed along.

The next day, after John went to school, he asked me what I wanted to do.

"Well," I said, "what are my options?"

He looked at me as we sat on the couch and smiled at me. God, I loved his smile. "I don't know, I'd have to look up some stuff. But what type of day do you want?"

"I just wanna get out of the house," I said.

"You're not making this easy," he teased, grinning at me. I rolled my eyes. "So, then, what stuff do you like to do?"

"Well..." I said, "I like, um..." I felt oddly weird trying to tell him things I wanted to do. I'd never really had options before. I was worried he'd judge me, which, admittedly, was pretty stupid. "You won't... tease me, or anything, will you?"

He smiled again. "No, of course not," he said.

"Well, um..." I said, trying to think. "When... when I used to think... fantasize, I guess, about going on dates..." I felt myself blush. "I used to think about going on walks and picking flowers in the park... or going to libraries or bookstores, or going to plays or concerts, or going to do stupid stuff, like going to a fair or zoo or just having some crazy adventure. I don't know, it was just... something I thought about sometimes, something I wished I could have. It's stupid."

John had a look in his eye that I couldn't quite pinpoint. "It's not stupid," he said, breaking into another stupid grin. "It's actually pretty cute." I felt my blush deepen, and he took my hand. "I wanna do that stuff with you. We can't do it all at once, obviously, but still, it'd be fun." I smiled along with him. "So," he continued, "I'll find out what we can do."

I thought for a moment. "Wait," I said, "won't we have to ask Sarah? Or sneak out with T as our chauffeur?"

He laughed, music to my ears. "Uh, yeah, I guess. I think it'll be fine, but you may have to be okay with him being our chaperone slash bodyguard."

I laughed back. "Sure," I said.

"Alright then," he said, "it's a date."

…..

(John's perspective)

Hearing her talk about what she wanted to do practically forced him to smile.

He really did want to give her a good time, to have fun with her and see her smile and laugh and have her face light up over things she got excited about.

When she was telling him her fantasies about dating, it was wonderful. At first she was shy about it, but then she started getting lost in her thoughts and told him all of her ideas. They made so much sense to him, because she liked the peaceful, kind of romantic things like taking walks and picking flowers, and she loved books and music. What he didn't know was that she liked plays, or going to fairs, or seeing animals at zoos, but it just seemed to fit when she said it. He didn't know what she meant by a crazy adventure, but he wanted to, at some point, make one for her on his own.

Seeing her light up like that and getting to know the things she liked made him feel like he was flying. It was amazing to have her share things with him again.

Later, John went to his mom to talk to her about it. He found her in the kitchen and asked to talk to her.

"Everything alright?" she asked right off the bat.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," John assured her. "But I wanna ask you something."

"Yes?" she said, crossing her arms.

"I wanna take Paige out somewhere, out into town." She gave him a look. "I know it doesn't seem safe, but we'll take our guns and the terminator, and not anywhere too far at all. I swear it'll be fine. I just figured it'd be nice to go somewhere and have fun, since she's been so off lately, you know?"

Sarah looked down at the ground like she was considering her options. "You really want this, don't you?" she asked. John nodded. "Have the terminator take you," she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief, "and don't just leave him in the car. Keep him near you, don't keep him too far away. Take your guns if you can, and be on watch."

As always, he thought his mom was overreacting a bit, but he gave her a hug of gratitude anyways. "Thanks, mom."

"Stay safe," she replied.

Now all he had to do was find somewhere to go.

He walked to the library, his gun with him, and looked up some things in the area on the computer. Finally he found something he thought Paige would like. Actually, two things, and both happened to be tomorrow. He felt like the cards were stacked in his favor as he smiled all the way home. This surprise was going to be amazing.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

John came in the door a few hours later and sat next to me on the couch. "Tomorrow," he said, "be ready tomorrow."

I smiled. "Why tomorrow, specifically?"

"You'll see," he replied, grinning.

"Ah," I said, "well, then, Mr. Mysterious, is there something specific I should wear? Some specific time I should be ready?"

"Be ready at around... two, and... wear something kinda warm. I'll give you a hint: we're not running a marathon, and we're not meeting the president, so what you wear doesn't matter much, but you might get cold."

"Hm... not a marathon, but nothing with the president either... oh, I know what we're doing," I joked.

"Oh really?" he joked along. "What is it? Take your best guess."

"If we're not running, we must be walking," I said, "and if it's not with the president, it must be with the vice president. We're walking with the vice president."

"Shit, you guessed!" he played along. "I guess the surprise is ruined."

I laughed with him. "But seriously," I said, catching my breath, "I'm really excited. I'm too curious for them, but I love surprises."

"Noted," he said, taking my hand.

…..

**[A/N: Sorry about how short this chapter was, but it became too long if I added the next part. More soon!]**


	17. Chapter 17-Out

…..

(John's perspective)

Had he ever really gone _out_?

He obviously never went out with a girl, but he couldn't remember the last time he went somewhere other than home purely for enjoyment.

Things had changed in his home life quite a bit since T first came, and he realized that more and more each day. Maybe something had sparked in his mom – some realization that he should be in school and living normally while he still could. Maybe it was almost witnessing his son dying that did it. He didn't really know, but he was glad it happened. Sarah was more motherly, she was more willing to let John enjoy himself, she was trusting to someone other than her own blood, and she was... loving. That, and the house they lived in, while he didn't know the details of how they got there, was genuinely nice. He didn't know if it was nicer than the house Paige had been living in, but he knew it was definitely nicer than anything he'd lived in for more than a day.

And now he could go out. Almost on his own. Or, basically, _without_ his mother breathing down his neck. Not that she did in the house, really, but he'd never been able to do something like this before.

So, he realized, he was really excited to go out, too. It didn't really matter what it was, though he knew he'd enjoy anything with Paige standing next to him.

The next morning, John put on jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and some sneakers, and then found the terminator in his room.

He felt bad for his lack of talking to T. His attention was always entirely captured by Paige. Nowadays, while he did talk to T every once in a while, he just left him in his room, which really only consisted of four walls, a chair, and a few guns in the closet. He was only there for emergencies, grunt work, sometimes company, and rare cases like this.

His first questions was, "Do you ever get bored in here?"

"No," he replied. He felt less bad. Only less.

"Well," John said, "in case you do, I got a job for you."

After some arguing as to why, which John knew was the terminator's favorite question, he finally conceded. John made T agree to be near them, but leave them alone, and not to question anything. Then everything was set, and with good timing.

John went over to Paige's door and knocked. She opened the door almost immediately, and he wondered how eagerly and how long she'd been waiting. "Hi," she breathed. She was wearing a light purple shirt with short, lace sleeves, jeans, and black boots that went up to her ankles, and she was carrying a gray sweater. Her hair was braided over her right shoulder.

"Hi," he responded, hoping it wasn't obvious that he basically eyed her up and down. "Are you ready?" She nodded.

As they made their way to the car, they looked at each other and smiled. He didn't know why Paige smiled, but John smiled because they were going out. On a date. Away from the house. Aside from a reprogrammed machine from the future being their personal bodyguard and driver, it was almost like they were normal boyfriend and girlfriend.

He liked the thought, and he liked doing things that made it seem so, but he also liked that they weren't. He thought they wouldn't be as close as they were if they were just normal teenagers, and while it might have been something he was raised to believe, he'd always thought being a little different made things more interesting.

He looked at her. She looked so beautiful. He loved the lace on her, and her hair was loose around her face so that it framed it perfectly. "You look beautiful," he said to her, making her look over to him. "I like the purple. And your hair. I like how it frames your face." Paige pushed some of her hair behind her ears and blushed a little, which he found adorable.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she said back to him. "I like the long sleeves. You don't usually wear those unless it's on a jacket." He was surprised at how much she paid attention. He kind of liked knowing that she did, for some reason. "It looks nice on you. You look... sweet. Like, the nice kind of sweet."

"Thanks," he said, and he couldn't help smiling. Her compliments were short, but they had detail and made him want to stop and kiss her. That was the third time she'd called him sweet. Only she could make him love being called something like that.

John went ahead of Paige to open the door for her. He felt a little weird being so... gentlemanly, but the way it made her blush made it worthwhile.

As they rode in the backseat, he watched her look out the window at their changing surroundings. He reached over and took her hand, and she laced her fingers with his, turning to smile at him. He smiled back widely. She looked back at the window for a moment. "Guess what?" she said suddenly.

"What?" he replied as she turned to look at him.

"I'm packing heat. Guess where, guess where," and he could see another childlike look in her eyes, this time accompanied with her excited movements and words.

"Your pocket?" he guessed. She shook her head. "Your jacket?" She shook her head no again. "Your hair?" No. "Your other pocket?" No and a laugh.

She smiled and leaned down to her boot, pulling out a gun. "My _shoe_," she said, twirling her gun around and then returning it to its hiding place.

John smiled back at her. It was pretty cool. "I hope you have the safety on that thing," he joked, "or it'll be hard to get you home."

"No kidding, and yeah, I do," Paige said, laughing. She turned to face the window again, and John moved his head to his window, taking a look at the change of scenery.

Finally, they arrived. "Are you ready for destination number one?" he asked.

"You're shitting me, there's more than one? Again? That's awesome!" Their hands broke away as they left the car, all three of them. Paige looked up at the entrance. "Oh my god," she said, her eyes dancing with excitement. "I haven't been to a zoo since I was little. Oh my god, John, this is so awesome."

John walked behind the car to her and took her hand. "This should be new for both of us, then."

She turned to look at him. "Why?" she asked, and her head turned to the side like a confused puppy.

"I've, uh, never been to a zoo, actually." He waited for some pitiful look to spread across her face.

Instead, she broke into a wide grin. "Then let's go inside! Holy shit, it seems dumb as hell, but it's really pretty cool. I think you'll really like it." John just stared at her, so glad that she was excited instead of condescendingly pitying him. Most people would do the latter, but he forgot just how awesome she was. Just for a second. "Come on!" she said, pulling him forward. He returned her smile.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I'd spent a little too much time getting ready. For some reason, again, I felt nervous, though I knew I had no reason to. And again I spent half the day just waiting for John to be ready. I felt so girly whenever stuff like this came up, but I was beginning to enjoy it.

When he knocked at the door, I jumped up, and then I worried that he'd notice how eagerly I'd been waiting. I breathed out a greeting and we walked out to the car, the terminator following suit.

As we made our way out we looked at each other and smiled. I didn't know why he was smiling, but I was smiling because of how silly and amazing it all was. Silly because we were having a robot chaperone us on our date, but amazing because we were going _out_ on a date. It was we were normal boyfriend and girlfriend. And I liked that we could pretend to be, but I liked more that we weren't. If we were normal we wouldn't have been so close, and there was something I liked about the quirkiness of it all.

As I wondered how much less fun it would be if we were a normal couple – and I found that word weird, too – John suddenly spoke up again, calling me beautiful. I felt butterflies in my stomach and heart, and he complimented the purple and my hair, which I had spent more time on than I'd like to admit. I adjusted it, needing to touch my face to hide the redness that I knew was there. Then I tried to compliment him back, but to me it sounded awkward and stupid.

He opened the door for me, and I blushed like a schoolgirl. I didn't understand why he did that for me.

When I looked out the window, I thought about just what was happening. Excitement filled me, and John took my hand. I played a guessing game with John as to where I hid my gun.

I couldn't believe there was more than one destination, and when I stepped outside the car and saw where we were, I couldn't believe it then, either. I also couldn't believe that John had never been to a zoo. I wanted to show him everything I'd loved when I was younger, and I couldn't help pulling him along like an impatient child.

I was curious about how John would get in, but he gave the terminator some cash before we went to the entrance and had him pay the guy up front. There were no questions asked – just a weird look, which made sense, considering there was a big beefy guy who looked like he belonged in a gym more than in a zoo with two teenagers.

"Where'd you get the cash?" I asked John after we went inside.

"I used my old ATM trick," he replied.

"You still have that thing?" I asked.

He smirked at me. "Sure do." I shook my head in fake disbelief.

As we walked, John and I hand in hand, I felt almost weird because of how normal everything seemed. But it only took one glance behind me to see the terminator following by a few feet, watching us but not keeping his eyes directly on us, to make me realize how _not_ normal this was.

The whole zoo was themed like the world, so you could visit animals from different continents. We walked aimlessly, looking at animals and talking. It was, though contradictory, peacefully exciting. Excitingly peaceful. I couldn't decide.

The excitement came from the animals. I loved all of them, and I would practically jump for joy whenever we saw a new one. John seemed to love them, too, and his eyes were filled with a childlike wonder.

When we got to the tigers, he said, "I wonder what it looks like when they feed them."

"What do they feed them, do you think?" I asked.

"Probably magic," he replied. I smiled.

"Well, I'd like to think that." He seemed to stop listening. He just watched as, in what was really a lucky moment, one tiger came up to the front of it's habitat and circled around, watching us. John leaned down and put his hand up to the glass, coming face to face – or face to glass to face – with the animal. He grinned.

When we made our way to the pandas, I became stupidly, perhaps annoyingly excited. I had my most favorite memories of the zoo at the panda habitat. I saw a mother and a cub walking around, and I felt lucky that we even saw them. I smiled widely and quietly gasped. "Oh my god," I said, mostly to myself, "they're so cute." I heard John laugh behind me and I felt my face get hot. "Sorry," I said lowly, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

"No, it's cute," he said, grinning, and I was sure my face couldn't get more red. "You kinda... lit up. Really, it's cute. It's fun to watch you get so bubbly." I gave a small, sheepish smile and continued watching the pandas as he came closer and held my hand, watching with me.

…..

(John's perspective)

John couldn't believe the things he was seeing. To some, it's trivial stuff – you pay a few bucks to see animals for a day. But to him, it was like a dream. People shouldn't be able to see animals that live in entire other halves of the world, but there he was. Able to see them. Even a deadly one, one that could tear him apart, was available for his viewing through the safety of glass.

And when Paige saw the Pandas, she really was cute. Her face lit up again and she kinda waved her hands in excitement, and her smile was beautiful. He couldn't help but laugh, but he didn't mean to embarrass her, so he told her how cute it was and how fun it was to watch, but that seemed to embarrass her anyways. He watched with her for a while.

After they went wherever they wanted to go, they left for destination number two. This one he found and suspected she'd like, and it was something he'd surprisingly done a while ago. He opened the car door for her again and she smiled as she went inside. Once they were both in, Paige asked, "So what was your favorite? I know you know mine."

"The tiger, definitely," John said, smiling. "Jesus, I feel like a kid."

Paige returned the smile. "So?"

"So, I... I don't know. I guess I still am a kid." He laughed.

The rest of the car ride was comfortably silent. Finally, he said, "Are you ready for destination number two?" A wide grin spread across her face.

When they stepped outside, and Paige saw where they were, it was yet another time that he saw her face light up. He looked at her and smiled by her side, and she kept the one she already had, slipping her sweater on her shoulders. She took his hand.

Inside, they got their skates, their condition not at their prime, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the fun they were going to have ice skating.

"Have you ever been?" John asked as he tied the laces.

"No," Paige replied, and he was a little surprised only because it seemed like she'd done everything there was to do before. "I'm going to make an ass of myself."

What was more surprising was that he had been ice skating before. "I'll show you how."

Her head whipped up from her skates, and he could tell she was trying to hide her shock. "You've been ice skating?" she asked anyways.

He nodded as she fully turned her attention to him, her laces tied in perfect bows. "I actually went with Enrique and his family once when I was like, ten. He took them every year and invited me along." John smiled, feeling nostalgic. "It wasn't exactly something I was interested in, but Enrique was more fun than my mom, so I couldn't pass it up. It took a while for me to get the hang of it."

When they somehow made their way to the rink, Paige almost falling in the process, he had to slow down a lot to stay with her. She was holding on for dear life to the wall. "How the hell do you do this?" she said, laughing.

"Just hold on to me and the wall and try to walk," he suggested, holding out an arm.

"Easy for you to say," she said, slowly reaching out to him and finding her balance. He laughed and tried to keep her steady. Eventually she was walking pretty normally.

"Now let go of the wall," he said.

"You're shitting me," she said.

"Nope."

"Alright, but if I fall, it's on you," she said, and after a few moments, she only held on to him.

"Just try not to take me down with you," he said.

"That's a promise I don't intend to make," she teased. She wobbled, and almost fell for a second, but he kept her steady.

"Now try pushing out and back, one foot at a time," he said.

"Alright," Paige said hesitantly. One of her arms was extended out to help her balance, and she slowly pushed her foot out and back, and it made her move forward when she did the same with the other. John struggled to keep up with her, but she immediately slowed down.

"Keep going!" he said. She smiled widely and looked back to her feet. "Don't look at your feet," he said, "you'll lose your balance. Just look ahead and bend your knees."

She kept pushing her feet out, and eventually she was gliding. "I'm doing it!" she almost squealed, making John laugh.

"You wanna try doing it without holding onto me?" he asked. She let go as a response, and he still skated next to her, but she was moving mostly on her own. Then she looked down, lost her balance, and fell on her ass. He stopped and leaned down. "You alright?" he laughed.

A bubbly laugh escaped her lips. "That was awesome!" she said.

"C'mon," he said, smiling and offering her a hand.

When she eventually got the hang of it, after one or two more falls, the two of them were holding hands and gliding along, talking.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Falling and all, I finally learned to skate, clutching onto John half the time. But then we just flew, our hands laced together.

"I remember once," I said, thinking about the cold, "when I was younger, my dad and I were driving through a snowstorm, and I was kinda scared that we wouldn't get home. So, he told me to look at the snowflakes flying at us, and imagine we were going through hyperspace, like in _Star Wars_."

"Oh, Jesus," John said.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"Whenever I tell people this they wanna hit me," he said, shaking his head.

"Tell people what? What does this have to do with – wait," I said, unable to contain a gasp, "have you never seen _Star Wars_?" 

"No," he replied.

"How have you never seen _Star Wars_?" I asked in shock, teasingly swatting at him.

"I knew you'd hit me!" he joked. I stopped and he stood up straight. "Christ, all this commotion over a movie."

"Only some of the greatest movies ever!" I said defensively. "But not episodes one through three. Those are just okay." John rolled his eyes at me teasingly, grinning like an idiot after wards. "Roll your eyes all you want, we're totally watching it when we get home."

"I certainly won't complain," he responded. "I think my mom has them on tape. At the least I'll stop being swatted." He grinned again, and I swatted at him in response, eliciting a laugh from him.

On and on we skated, the conversation never quite stopping. After some time we got tired and decided to stop. As we made our way to the exit of the rink, John skated ahead of me a little and stopped there. Then I realized that I didn't really know how to stop very well, so I slowed down as much as I could but then I ran right into him. He caught me, holding onto my arms as I grabbed his shirt for support, him steady the entire time. I regained my balance as he still held me there, and I felt pressed against him. A warm blush rushed to my face and I looked up at him, putting a small amount of distance between us. "You did that on purpose," I jokingly accused, trying to hide my embarrassment.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said knowingly, smiling at me. I felt my stomach flip over and over, and soon we let go of each other and made our way to take off our skates.

Outside it was already dark. In the car, my hands felt numb, so I breathed on them and rubbed them together. John silently reached over and took both of my hands in his, and I blushed again. "Hey," John said suddenly to the terminator, "drive through here." We went to a drive-thru coffee place, and John told T to order two hot chocolates and handed him some cash. At the window we got some weird looks, but then I had a warm drink in my hands, so I didn't care. I felt warm and happy and tired yet awake at the same time, so after a moment I leaned on John and looked out the windshield. I felt his arm around me and a deep breath come from his chest.

…..

(John's perspective)

He totally did it on purpose, kind of to get back at her. It felt nice to hold her, and she seemed to enjoy it, though he knew she wouldn't admit it. Plus it was fun to see her blush again.

He was surprised at how late it was, but holding her hands made time disappear. He got them hot chocolate, and he felt warm inside, and she leaned onto him and made him feel warm outside. He put an arm around her and breathed deeply.

The car ride was once again comfortably silent, and John thought Paige was asleep when they got home, but she sat up quickly, her eyes wide open. They went inside and she said, "I'm still holding you to it, we're watching _Star_ _Wars_."

"Alright, I'll go look for it," he conceded. "Just wait on the couch, I'll be right there." She smiled and nodded.

He looked for the tapes, and eventually found episode four stashed in the terminator's room. He made his way back to the couch and found Paige sitting in the corner of it, hugging her knees. Her head was slumped and her eyes were closed, and he could see her move with every deep breath. He sighed and dropped the tape on the couch, leaning down to try to nudge her awake. She loosened her grip on her legs, and he was able to put an arm under her knees and back to scoop her up.

He took her to his room and put her in the bed, climbing in after. He wished she was awake enough to be next to him, because he didn't want to pull her to him when she wasn't aware. Then, she stirred, rolling over and nuzzling her entire body into him. He pulled her closer and shut his eyes, but then her heard her speak softly. "I love you," he thought she murmured.

"Are you awake or sleep talking?" he asked almost as softly.

"Awake," she whispered. It was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "Thanks for today. I really needed that."

"I know you did," he replied, matching how quiet she was.

"I wanted it to last forever." She seemed to be in a dreamy state, but not actually asleep, just from the way she spoke.

"Me too. I loved how much you lit up. You were beautiful."

"You lit up, too."

"Was I beautiful?" he joked.

"Absolutely," she said seriously. He laughed lightly. Another moment of peaceful silence went by. He thought she was asleep again when she asked, sort of shyly, meekly, "Can you play with my hair?"

He couldn't help laughing. She was like a sleepy puppy, so cuddly and kind of quietly playful. "I'd love to," he replied. He stroked her hair, letting its silkiness run over his fingers, and she nuzzled more into him. Her breathing grew deeper, and he was sure she was asleep, slipping into sleep's haziness himself along with her.

…..

**[A/N: Sorry for the kinda short chapters :/ ]**


	18. Chapter 18-Top

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I almost forgot how tired I was. I probably wouldn't have gotten so close to him on my own, but I was too tired to care, and it was nice not to care. It all just felt nice – John's fingers in my hair, his warmth, the way we both spoke like we were dreaming. It was almost magical.

When I woke up, I was still nuzzled into him, and his hand was resting on the back of my head. "Morning," he spoke suddenly.

"Morning," I said back, stretching out and moving slightly away. I turned over to look up at him. "Did you ever find the movie?"

He smiled at me. "Yeah, I did. Wanna watch?"

"After breakfast. I'm starving."

We ate and then sat on the couch to watch. I leaned into him and he put an arm around me, like in the car the night before.

At the end of the movie, I had to ask him, "So what'd you think?"

"Eh," he said, and I thought he couldn't be serious. Then he grinned at me and I knew he wasn't. "I'm kidding. It was really good. In my top five, even."

"Good, I don't have to hurt you," I joked. "Wanna watch the next one?" I asked. He nodded enthusiastically.

Taking short breaks in between, we eventually watched episodes four through six. After dinner and the last movie, we went back to John's room and, of course, started kissing on the edge of his bed. After a while, John tentatively moved a hand to my waist. But, this time, I felt okay with it. I pulled away to give him an assuring smile and then continued to kiss him. Soon, he moved his lips to my jaw, then over to my ear, and I couldn't control my breathing. His hand slid up my waist and he leaned back.

"Can I touch you?" he asked. He must've seen the worried look on my face. His hand left my waist and he tucked some hair behind my ear lovingly. My stomach was doing somersaults. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said. "Only if you're ready. I won't go any further without you being okay with it."

"I..." I began, feeling emotions spring up that I must've been pushing down. "I'm... I'm scared."

"Can I ask why?" he questioned.

I thought about it. "I... I feel like, if you... touch me, I'll... you're gonna think I'm weird for saying this."

"No," he said, taking my hands, "I won't. I promise, I swear, I know that I won't."

I stared at his hands enveloping mine. "If... if you do this," I said, my voice quiet, "I'm afraid that I'll... that I'll forget it's you. That I'll mix up the memories of... what happened, and now, and that when you touch me, I'll never be able to not think about..." I took in a shaky breath, and I realized that I was shaking.

"Hey," he said, placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. "Hey, I'm here. It's just me. I'm here." He ran his hands down my arms and squeezed my hands, trying to make eye contact, but I wouldn't.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, even though I knew he wouldn't like it.

"For _what_?" he demanded suddenly. "What did you do that was wrong?"

"I feel like I'm overreacting," I said. "They didn't even..."

"It doesn't matter," John said. "I'm serious. It _doesn't matter_. You get to feel how ever you want to feel. Fuck anyone who thinks differently. Something bad happened to you, and it doesn't matter if it wasn't as bad as something else. You're not overreacting."

I still didn't make eye contact, but I said, "Thank you."

"I love you," he said, "and I'm here."

"I love you, too," I said, "and I know."

"Now, listen, I don't know how to make your fear go away. If you wanna wait before something like this for a while, that might work for you, and we can do that, but I have another suggestion."

"What?" I asked.

"If I touch you," John said, "I'll try to keep talking to you and telling you what I'll do so you know it's me and I don't go too far." I thought for a minute about what that might mean. "But I don't wanna put you on the spot when you've been upset. Do you wanna just stop?"

I thought a moment more. "What if I don't want to stop?" I asked nervously, afraid he'd think something of me.

He gave me an assuring smile, like I had done earlier. "Then I'll just keep kissing you," he said, "but can you look at me first so I know you're there?" I looked up into his eyes, and he looked at me lovingly as he leaned down and put his lips on mine. Soon it heated up again, and I felt his lips on my jaw and his hand on my waist. His lips left warm kisses all along my face and over to my ear. I found it difficult to control my breathing. He bit my ear and I stifled a moan, and then his hand moved up to my ribs. I could feel his hot breath on my ear and neck as he whispered. "I'm gonna touch you now. Ready?"

My heart thumped in my chest as I breathed, "Yes." His hand felt warm on my breast and my breathing felt shallower.

John placed a kiss on my neck, then whispered, "You feel good." He stroked his thumb over the side of my breast. "I'm gonna press down a little, because I know you like that, and I hope you'll moan." His statements made me blush furiously, so I was glad he was focused on my neck. My stomach did more somersaults and my heart thumped more. He pressed down gently, and I tried not to make noise, but then he pressed down more. I still kept quiet. He kissed my neck more and leaned back to look at me.

"What'll I have to do to make you moan?" John wondered aloud. He kept kissing my neck, then he bit my ear, then whispered, still touching me, "I'll try adding another hand." Just like that, his other hand was on my other breast. "Now I'm gonna move my hands," he said, and he rolled his hands over my breasts. The new sensation made me unable to keep out a soft moan, and I blushed more. "There we go," he said teasingly, and I knew he was smirking. He placed a few kisses on and then bit my neck, still rolling his hands. I held onto him, unable to keep my eyes open. "Your nipples are hard," he said lowly, his word choice making my face warm, and then he ran his thumbs across them. I shuddered at the feeling and moaned again. "Can I push you back?" he asked, his hands still on me.

I opened my eyes. "Sure," I said quietly. He kissed me more and then he pushed me back gently until I was lying down, my head on his pillow, and he was on top of me. John hovered over me, moving one hand off my chest so he could support himself, and he kept kissing me.

"I'm going to move one hand back to your waist," he said softly. It glided down and rested on my waist, but not for long. "Now I'm gonna wrap my arm around you." His hand slid around my back. "Now I'll pull you towards me," he whispered in my ear, and he half pulled me up to him and lowered himself to me, "and I'll move my hips..."

"Wait," I breathed. He looked at me concernedly for a moment. "You don't have to... say this part. I'm okay."

He smiled. "Okay," he said. "But anyways, I'm going to move my hips into yours..."

"Why are you still saying it?" I asked.

"I don't know, it seems to be turning you on," he smirked. "Isn't it?" I felt myself blush deeply. "It is!" he accused.

"No it's not!" I said, defensive. "It's just... you just..."

As I stumbled over my words, he kissed me again to interrupt and went to whisper in my ear. "Don't you want me to keep whispering to you?" he breathed. He kissed me under my ear. "I think you've always liked the whispering." Another warm kiss. "How quiet it is." Another. "How it's like we're the only two people in the world." Two more. "And I think you like the teasing, too."

"I do not!" I denied again, even though, while I wouldn't admit it to him, it did kind of turn me on.

"Well," John said, leaning back a little to look at me, "if you do, it's alright. I actually think it's kinda cute." I blushed for the umpteenth time. "You're really cute," he said, and my blush deepened, making him smile.

I pulled him down to kiss him, and soon our tongues were dancing again. After a little while, John moved his hips into mine, like he said he would, making me moan. He smiled at the noise into this kiss. After a couple more minutes, I wanted to try something, so I pushed his chest back to try to make him turn over. He pulled away and looked at me. "Are you okay?" he asked. He must've thought I was trying to push him away from me.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just..." I said, rethinking it. "Never mind."

"Never mind what?" he asked.

"Isn't that why they call it 'never mind'?" I stalled. "So that you don't mind it and ask 'what' after wards?"

"C'mon, Paige, just tell me," he pressed, studying my expression.

"Jesus, it's not that serious," I said, feeling like he was worried about me. "I just wanted to..."

A small smile played on his lips, but he acted like it wasn't there. "Wanted to what?"

The idea of actually saying it was so embarrassing. I felt my face get hot again and I looked away. "I just thought..." I said, hesitating, knowing he was looking right at me and holding on to every word. "I feel like you initiate everything, and I thought, maybe..." My voice dropped to practically a whisper. He was right: I did like the quiet. "I thought that maybe I could... be on top of you." My face was probably redder than a tomato, but I said it, and there was no going back. He just stared at me for a minute, and I grew more self-conscious, wanting him to say something, anything. Suddenly he broke into a disbelieving grin, leaning down to wrap his arms around my back, then pulling me up close to him and flipping the two of us over.

…..

(John's perspective)

Why couldn't she just believe that her fears were natural? That they were okay to have? That she wasn't overreacting, that she didn't need to apologize?

He did like his solution, though. Ever since John learned that he turned Paige on so much, he had this kind of sense that she liked being talked to, that she liked it when he whispered to her. Sometimes he thought him teasing her turned her on. And, he thought that talking her through everything would remind her that it was him, that it was just him and no one else and they were both alright.

And he kissed her, and he talked to her, and he knew that she was blushing constantly even though he didn't see her face. He kept trying to make her moan, but she would hold back, and he had no idea why. And when she did, he experimented with teasing her. She seemed to be embarrassed but it made the peaks of her breasts harden. He told her, and he wished he could see her face when he did, because he knew she felt shy when he talked about anything vulgar, but he wanted her to hear it. He wanted her to get used to it, to feel okay with it when he said it. He also thought talking like that turned her on, too.

Soon John was gently pushing Paige back, and he pulled her close, and he was going to move his hips into hers, but she stopped him to tell him that he didn't need to keep talking. He thought she was saying that because it embarrassed her to hear something pretty sexual, and since she only said that he didn't need to, not that he didn't want her to, he kept going, knowing she would ask him why.

So he told her why. And his suspicions were confirmed. He'd known Paige long enough and was good enough at reading people to know that when she denied everything it was just because she was embarrassed to admit it. So he told her that it was cute, because it was. It was kind of adorable that she was so shy about something like that, some thing that he'd figured out turned her on, a thing that he could keep doing if he wanted to make her hot.

And God, she was so cute, blushing underneath him. It made him smile so easily. Just like when she moaned.

Then suddenly Paige was pushing him away, and John worried that he did something wrong. He asked immediately if she was okay. Then she said she was. So what was the deal?

And she just had to add "never mind." He knew there was something she was avoiding, and he asked, but she kept avoiding the question, so he pressed on, worried it was something important that she was keeping from him.

Then she said the word "wanted," and he knew it was something she wanted to _do_. Some new thing she wanted to try. He tried not to smile, he tried to act like he didn't. He asked her what it was. She wouldn't make eye contact, and her face was red, but he wanted to hear everything that she wanted. She said that he initiated everything, as she hesitated more, her voice dropping really low.

Then she said she wanted to be on top of him. And it was one of the hottest things he'd ever heard her say.

John stared at Paige in awe, wondering if he did initiate everything. He didn't want her to feel like he did. He realized, after thinking a moment, that it was mostly true. He was always on top of her, touching her, everything. On the other hand, she did initiate starting or the kissing or the touching sometimes, but he wanted her to have this one. She looked embarrassed, and he realized that he wasn't really replying, so to reply, he grinned at her, still not quite believing what she said. His arms wrapped around her back and pulled her close, flipping the two of them over.

Paige seemed a little surprised at first. Then she looked nervous – really, really nervous. Then she looked like she was trying to hide her nervousness and she smiled faintly, letting out a breath that she must have been holding for a moment. John watched as she pushed her body up and mostly off of his with her forearms, supporting herself on them. Her hips were still on his, but sort of awkwardly, with one of her legs in between his. She looked down at him and he couldn't keep in a laugh. She had no idea what she was doing.

Not like he had any more experience with stuff like this than she had. Maybe he simply had the confidence to just go with it that she seemed to lack. And Paige's lack of confidence was awkward, but in an adorable, lovable way that John couldn't get enough of.

His laugh seemed to hurt her, and she started to mumble. "What?" he asked, unable to hear.

"I don't wanna do this anymore," she said, just loud enough for him to hear. She started to push herself away from him.

"Hey, wait," John said, making her pause, even more inches now between them. He never meant to hurt Paige's feelings, and he certainly didn't want her to just up and leave. "I'm sorry. It's not funny, it's not. You're just..." He struggled to find a word to describe it. "I can't remember the word, but you're just... charming, kinda, in a cute way."

"Endearing?" she offered.

"That's it. See, and you're smart, too." He smiled, hoping she would return it.

She did, but it was smaller, humbler. "You're smart, too, you know," she said, looking down to his shoulder, probably to avoid eye contact. "And you're charming, and... and you're cute." Her eyes met his after she finished her compliments.

John smirked. "I'm cute?"

"Yeah, but not in an endearing way," Paige said. "In a boy kinda way." He shook his head at her.

She looked at him a little sheepishly for a second, and she still did look so... endearing. "Do you really not wanna do this anymore?" he asked.

She looked to his shoulder again. "I... I do, I just..." she trailed off for a second, looking like she didn't know what to say. "I feel like I suck at this. I don't get how you're so... good at it." Her face turned red.

"You think I'm good at it?" John asked, smirking again, his ego getting the best of him.

"Well..." Paige said, obviously choosing her words carefully, "you're better at it than I am."

"But you think I'm good at being on top of you," he teased. He didn't think her blush could deepen, but it did.

She paused, her eyes still not meeting his. "Kinda," she murmured, but he could hear it this time.

"You like it that much? That you think I have some skill that you don't?"

"I never said that."

"But you implied it."

"How?"

"You said I was good at it," he kept teasing, "which means that at some point, you thought about what it was like when I was on top of you. And you decided I was good. Which means it had to feel good to you, right? You had to like it. You like it when I'm on top of you."

"No I don't," she insisted, even though they both knew that wasn't true.

"We'll just see about that later," he bet, knowing it would make her wonder. "But right now, you're on top of me. Don't you want to be closer?" Her face reddened again as she lowered herself back down, leaving a couple of inches between them, still supporting herself on her forearms. She was back in the same position as before. She looked like she didn't know what to do next, and the nervous expression returned. He smiled at her, trying to reassure her.

Paige looked down into John's eyes, then down to his lips, and she leaned her head down to kiss him. Her kiss felt so gentle, so soft, almost nervous in and of itself, which made him figure that she must've been truly worried to do something wrong. He pulled his head back a little to speak. She looked at him intently. "Why are you kissing me like that?" he asked.

"Like what?" she responded.

"Like you're nervous," he said.

"I... I don't know, I kinda am," she said.

"Why?"

"Because I told you, I'm not good at this."

"Says who?" he asked.

"Says me," she replied.

"Why?"

"Because you keep stopping me."

"That doesn't mean you're not good at it," he pressed. "Just you being here makes you good at it."

"Then why are you stopping me?" she asked.

"Because you look really nervous, and you don't have to be. It's just me, this isn't a performance."

"But..." she said, hesitating. She looked at his shoulder again. "I want to make you feel like you make me feel," she said almost in a whisper.

John looked up at her face, at her beautiful eyes and her rosy cheeks and her full lips. "Paige," he said, "you already make me feel amazing. Just having you here makes me feel amazing."

She gave a halfhearted smile but still didn't meet his gaze. "But it's not as amazing as you make me feel," she said lowly.

"Please, just trust me on this," his voice quieter now but still louder than hers. "I'm not good with comparisons, but you make me feel better than anything. You could punch me and kick me and it would still feel awesome because you'd be doing it." She smiled more now, though mostly in an amused way, to herself. Her eyes were still fixed on his shoulder. "What will it take for you to look at me?" he asked. "Do you want me to talk quieter?" he asked, almost whispering. "Do you want me to help you?"

Paige's eyes flickered up to his, like she was interested in the offer, but then they flickered back down as if he never said anything. "That got your attention," John said, still quiet. "Let me help you."

She blushed a little, looking up into his eyes again, and she whispered, "Okay." He smiled at her, glad to try to bring her out of her shell. He reached up and slowly tried to move her forearms, but they wouldn't budge. She looked concerned. "Won't I... won't you...?"

"What, crush me?" he laughed.

"Well, no, but..."

John smiled reassuringly. "It's fine," he said, gently nudging her forearms. "I want to feel you against me." Paige took a deep breath, eventually moving her forearms and lowering her chest against his. He saw a small blush on her cheeks. She slowly slid her hands down to his shoulders and rested them there. He wrapped his arms around her arms and back, pulling her closer, and he could feel her breasts press against his chest.

Paige's one leg was still in between John's, but he thought it should be somewhere else. Her face was slightly below his, so he had to lean up a little to kiss her, but he didn't mind at all. He leaned up and pulled her even closer as he closed his eyes and their lips met. He could feel her sigh and the breath released loosen her chest. She was kissing him mostly like she normally did, their tongues soon swirling around each other, though he still felt a slight hesitance and nervousness.

After she seemed to be mostly comfortable, John took the foot that wasn't between Paige's and nudged it under the one of hers that was between his. He slowly and gently pushed it aside so that her legs were over both of his and she was almost straddling him. She pulled her face away and looked at him, her face quickly turning red. He loosened his grip on her so she could put the distance she needed between their shoulders and faces. "What, um..." she stammered quietly, "what are you doing?"

"I think," John replied, his volume matching hers, "if you change your position a certain way, it'll feel really good for the both of us."

"What sort of position?" Paige asked hesitantly. He didn't want to make her nervous again.

"I could tell you," he said, "or I could show you, if you let me touch your legs. Do you want me to?" She didn't immediately say no, so he could tell that she did want to, but he suspected that she didn't want to act eagerly. He tried to make it seem like it was entirely his wanting. "Can I touch your legs?" he rephrased. She nodded slowly.

John moved his hands off of Paige's back and down to her lower thighs, making him lean forward and the both of them sit up a bit. He could feel her breath quicken, and she looked at him, but her mind was clearly where his hands were. He pulled and lifted her thighs up, forcing her to push all of her weight into his chest. She shifted her weight to work with him, and he moved her thighs up around his hips, so she was straddling him. It forced her to sit up slightly and move her hips down into his.

John watched her face carefully as he did this. The more Paige realized what he was doing, the more she had to shift her weight, the more her expression changed to embarrassment and her face became red. He smiled at her, and it brought her attention back to him. She leaned her body down so they were face to face, then she looked into his eyes and kissed him.

He liked this position more. He pulled her body back into his as she rested her hands on his upper arms. He could feel that her nipples became hard and were poking against his chest. He broke the kiss. "You must be wearing a thin bra," he quietly teased, "because I can feel you again." She blushed again, smiling faintly, and shut him up with another kiss.

They kissed a while longer before John thought they could feel even better. He slowly slid his hands down Paige's back, to her waist, and even more slowly, down to her hips. He pulled away again to speak. "I'm gonna move your hips a little," he whispered, "is that okay?"

"Yes," she breathed. He slightly tightened his grip on her hips and went back up to kiss her before he moved them. When they were fully kissing again, John slowly but surely rocked Paige's hips back and forth, making her moan into his mouth. After a few seconds, she silently shifted her weight and her hips down a little to fully meet with his. When he kept moving her, it felt even better from however she shifted, and he moaned back into her mouth. He could feel heat coming from between her legs, and soon he felt himself get... turned on.

When they came up for air, Paige looked at John for a moment, like she was silently asking something, and he could see her blushing. "Can you feel me?" he whispered. If he had voiced the question loudly, it would have sounded weird, but whispering it and the mood that they seemed to be in made it different. Paige nodded. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered back. "It, um..." she looked away for a second, then back to him, "it kinda feels nice."

"You feel nice, too," he whispered again. "You feel so warm." John couldn't help grinning, and Paige returned it with a shy smile. They kissed more, and soon they kept moving their hips, the both of them falling into sync. She felt so warm and amazing that he never wanted her to stop. Since her hips were moving on their own, John decided to let his hands wander further down, just slightly, before he pulled back and looked at her. "Can I touch you here?" he asked gently.

Paige looked like she was thinking for just a moment. "Yes," she finally breathed before leaning down to kiss him again. When they were back to a rhythm he slowly slid his hands down, fully cupping her bottom in his hands. She moaned into his mouth, which made it all so much hotter. He tried gently squeezing, and she felt amazing. Soon he was pulling her hips into him from there, which made him moan right back.

A few glorious minutes went by, filled with touching and kissing and moving and sensations in places that made him want to just take her on the bed, before John finally thought that they should stop. It wasn't like he really wanted to, but if they kept going much longer, he was going to burst out of his pants.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Being on top of him was so difficult. I'd loved the idea in my head – of being like him, just confidently making me feel good and talking to me like he did it all the time. I even tried mimicking the way he put himself on top of me, but it didn't work out very well, and it made John laugh at me.

I felt hurt, and it made me feel like I really didn't know what I was doing and was just making an ass of myself. It was embarrassing enough to ask, and to suddenly have it happen, but lying there and having him laugh made it so much worse.

He told me that it was just cute, that what I thought seemed ridiculous was really just charming, which made me feel slightly better. I wanted to return all of his compliments because I knew he deserved all of them. Yet, when I tried, I still felt like he was better at it than me.

Admitting that he was better at this was a mistake. He kept teasing me again, and I denied that I liked it when he was on top of me. Deep down, though, I knew it was true. I did like it. But I wasn't just going to admit that after I'd already said too much.

What he said, the bet he'd made, made me seriously wonder for a few seconds, and I secretly hoped he would keep that promise.

Before I knew it, I was closer to him, still embarrassed. My lips met his and I felt so nervous, so on display, that I couldn't bring myself to really kiss him deeply. And, unfortunately, he noticed, trying to assure me that the whole thing wasn't a performance. I kind of wanted to yell at him that, yes, it was a performance, because I had to do everything and if I did something wrong or weird I'd look like an idiot.

Then I was just spilling why I wanted to do it, and he was telling me that I couldn't do it wrong, but I felt like I was a disappointment. I felt like he did all of these things for me, like he made me feel so special and cared for and loved and so damned turned on, and all I did was flop around on top of him and make him make me feel better. I didn't get any of it.

He coaxed me into looking at him by offering his help. But how the hell would he help me? I felt hopeless, but it caught my attention nonetheless. His help always seemed to be kind of... playful, in some way, or just kind of hot, and I just wanted to not have the weird sense of responsibility I had in those moments anymore.

He wanted me to just stop holding myself up, and while I wanted to be so close to him, to have our chests pressed together, I felt like he wouldn't be able to breathe if I did. But he kept pushing, and soon he was pulling me onto him and I could feel my breasts pressed against him, wondering if he could feel the same thing. We kissed almost normally before I felt his foot moving mine.

He wanted to show me some new position, which sounded kind of dirty to me, though I didn't say it. He asked if I wanted him to touch my legs. I tried to plead with my eyes, so I wouldn't have to say anything, that I wouldn't have to answer that question. Instead he rephrased it, and I knew he was kind of tricking me into thinking it was him wanting all of it instead of just some, but it worked enough for me.

Soon, after some awkward adjustments that couldn't let me focus on John, but rather what he was doing, my thighs were around his hips and I was straddling him. He just kept staring at me, so when he was finished I leaned down and kissed him, hoping he wouldn't say anything.

But he did. John told me that I must be wearing a thin bra, and I knew why. I also knew that he was just having _so_ much fun teasing me. His hands were around my hips before I knew it, helping me move in rhythm with him, and I felt warmth in between my legs. After a minute or so, I also felt John get... hard. I had to stop, worried that he didn't know, but he did, and I told him, stupidly, that it felt nice. But it really did – it was like he fit perfectly with me, and the motions along with everything was heaven. It pressed in all the right places, and I'd never felt anything like it before.

He was soon touching my butt, pulling my hips into his, and I loved his hands on me. Every feeling and motion and sensation was wonderful. I wondered, since this felt so good, what sex would be like. I wondered just how good it must feel. I wondered how good it would feel with us.

Suddenly John's hands were sliding up to my back, so I stopped moving my hips. We kissed for a few more seconds before he started to pull away, saying between each kiss, "I think... we should... slow down." I moved my face away from his and nodded my head. I didn't really know how to get off of him, but he started sitting up anyways, so I awkwardly moved away and turned so I was sitting next to him. I felt his left hand glide down my forearm and take my right. He lazily rubbed my thumb, saying, "That was fun," and laughing slightly.

"No kidding," I joked, and he laughed again.

"I see you're back," he said quietly, taking his hand away to wrap his arm around me, replacing it with his right.

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning my head to look at him.

John looked at me seriously before answering. "Whenever we do something like this, something sexual," he said, "it's like you crawl into a shell, and I have to pull you out." He smiled a little. "Now, don't get me wrong," he continued, "I love how shy you are about it. It's adorable. But I don't want you to feel embarrassed about anything. I don't really get why you are. It's always just me."

I was shocked. I knew I felt shy, that I felt embarrassed, and I knew John could see some of it, with my constant blushing... but I didn't know he felt like this. "I know it's just you," I said, thinking and staring at our hands clasped together. "But... it _is_ you. I don't know, you're just so... I don't even know how to describe it. Like, every time you kiss me, or... or touch me, or even just look at me..." I paused to swallow, feeling my face get red once again, "or... when you talk to me," I added quietly, "I just feel so... I don't know. It's like there's butterflies in my stomach and it just spreads all over. And then you do something that makes me feel like that, and I can't believe that you can just do that, and I know you know how it makes me feel, so I just... it just makes me embarrassed. It's like, you're so... hot, I guess, and I get so... nervously excited, and... yeah." I blushed hard at my poor word choice and stuttering.

I knew John was listening intently to my babbling the entire time, and I looked up to see his reaction. He smirked and laughed lightly to himself. "So what you're saying is..." he said, and then he spoke in almost a whisper, "I turn you on. I do it by kissing you, or touching you, or looking at you, or _talking_ to you," and he gave me a knowing look, "and you're embarrassed by it because you know that I know it does. But it still makes you excited? Was that what you said?"

My face remained warm. "Um... yeah."

I felt John pull me closer. "Can I tell you something?" he whispered.

"What?" I asked, matching his volume.

"I like how shy you are," he whispered, and I felt him getting closer to my ear. "I like how you blush, and it makes me want to kiss your cheeks," and he stroked my arm gently, whispering in my ear so I could feel his breath, "and I like how you fumble, and I can keep you steady," and I felt goosebumps rise on my neck, "and I like how you act so gently and sweetly, and it makes me want to wrap my arms around you, and I like how you like it to be quiet, and we can talk about anything. And most of all, I like how I can so easily make you feel good, and that makes me feel good, too."

"I want to be able to make you feel good that easily," I whispered back.

"You do," he replied. "Dear god, you do. Didn't you hear me moaning?"

"It's not the same," I said.

"I don't think it should be," he said quietly. "I don't think I'll ever be able to make you feel as good as you make me feel, like you said." He ran his thumb across my hand. "But that way we both know the other one makes us feel amazing, and we both know we make the other feel good at the very least."

I smiled weakly. "You're amazing," I whispered.

"So are you," he replied. We were both silent for a moment before he asked, "What else makes you excited?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"What turns you on?" he asked slightly louder.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I joked, avoiding the question.

"I would," he said seriously. "I wanna know what makes you feel good. So, again, what makes you excited?" I was silent. He lowered his voice back to a whisper. "What do you fantasize about?"

How the fuck was I supposed to answer that?

…..

**[A/N: Sorry for the chapters ending in weird places. Expect more soon, and please please please please please review!]**


	19. Chapter 19-Jenga

**[A/N: Sorry for the wait! Lately, I've been writing strings of chapters together and then separating and posting them later. So it takes longer but you get a chunk of 2-3 chapters together. Give and take :) . Anyways, BE WARNED, this chapter gets slightly ~intense~, and a little vulgar, but nothing actually explicitly sexual _happens_. So, basically, sexual themes, viewer's discretion, blah blah blah. Enjoy!]**

...

(John's perspective)

He really did love her shyness. And her saying that what they did excited her was just as awesome.

But he didn't want her to be embarrassed. Or nervous. If she felt shy, he didn't want it to make her feel bad. He still wanted her to feel good. So he was glad to hear that her shyness was basically there _because_ she felt good.

John asked Paige what else excited her. He really wanted to know. He wanted to know her every fantasy, her every wish, her every wanting, every single thing that made her feel turned on or excited. He wanted to know if she even thought about anything sexual. How far she wanted to take his question was up to her.

He was sort of doing this to try to get inside her head when it came to sexual things. For one, he'd be able to help her fulfill her fantasies when the time came, and for two, she might be able to open up enough to be more comfortable with sex.

He really didn't want to manipulate her into wanting to have sex, because he wanted her to warm up to it on her own, at her own pace. But if she talked about things like this, she might think about and understand why she wasn't emotionally ready and, eventually, be able to work on it whenever she felt like she was ready to.

John felt her body tense up when he asked the question. "I, uh..." Paige stammered quietly, "I don't want to say."

"Why?" he asked as gently as he could.

"Because it's embarrassing," she replied.

"Then you don't have to say it," he assured her. "I was just wondering. Maybe you'll tell me later on, but maybe not." He paused, thinking she'd possibly answer something different. He made sure to speak quietly. "Have you thought about having sex?"

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I didn't know how to answer that one, either. I already had trouble answering his fantasy question, because I knew my answer would imply that I had fantasies, I just didn't want to say them, and saying that it was embarrassing made me think he would think it was weird.

The truth was, I did have fantasies. I had a lot of fantasies. Sometimes, I even had dreams about them. And sometimes I wished so badly that they would happen, but I felt like they never would. I felt like, even if they did, it would have to be after years and years when I could finally get over my emotional bullshit.

And, truthfully, I also thought about having sex. I'd done it when I was on top of him. It seemed like everything made me think about what our first time would be like. I had a whole fantasy about that, too, but I knew that wouldn't happen, either. From everything I'd heard, your first time was never how you expected it to go. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but it was nice to dream.

"No," I lied, hoping he wouldn't be able to tell, hoping he wouldn't ask me about it if he was. I kind of wanted to know if he ever did, and what he fantasized about, but I also didn't want to ask, especially when I hadn't told him anything.

…..

(John's perspective)

He could tell she was lying. But he said nothing. If he pointed it out, he was afraid she'd want to tell him even less. He didn't want to force her to talk about anything.

He kind of wanted to tell her about his fantasies, about how he'd thought about them having sex. But he didn't want to weird her out or make her feel bad for not telling him. So he waited.

"That's okay," he replied. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like questions like this."

"No, no," she protested, "it's okay. I like that you want to ask me things, I just..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "I just don't like answering them."

"And you don't have to," he assured, trying to smile at her, but her eyes were down at their hands, lost in thought. "Try not to think about it too much," he said quietly. "It's really okay, I promise." She nodded distantly. "C'mon, let's get some sleep," he offered. She nodded again.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

John moved himself down so he was on his back, and I followed, resting my head on his chest. He wrapped his arm back around me, and soon mine was wrapped around his torso and I was pulled close to him. "Thank you," I whispered when we were settled.

"For what?" he asked, and I could feel him laugh.

"For being so nice," I replied. "For making sure I was okay and helping me so much, and for complimenting me all the time, and for just being so sweet."

"Well, you're welcome, I guess," he said. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I said. We were silent for a while, and I felt his breathing become even, so I assumed he was asleep.

I let my mind wander. What if all of this stuff that I didn't want to tell him was a part of my emotional bullshit? What if that was the reason I didn't want to answer questions? I didn't even really understand why I wasn't ready to have sex. I knew it was emotional, but that was all.

Really, I wasn't that worried about us changing. I knew it would change us, and I knew it would be a really good change, but I wasn't ready for it because it just felt so intense. Everything about it felt so intense. I didn't get how John could just get over that intensity as if it was nothing. That was probably why he was so damn confident all the time.

And I didn't want the innocence to be gone. I didn't want the exploration to be over after we had sex. I didn't want everything about that to change. I thought about that for a moment, and realized that there was always something new to explore with him, sexual or not. The changes in exploration took away the innocence, slightly, but that was why we could explore in the first place. We would always be able to, and I knew that deep in my heart.

But everything was so intense that I didn't know what to do. I had a feeling that that was why I wasn't ready. I really needed to ease into the intensity of it all, to be more comfortable with things like talking about it and thinking about it and figuring out what I wanted and answering questions and just opening myself up, just exposing myself to John. If I could do that, and maybe wait a little while, I would probably be ready.

More calm after thinking, I let the comfort of being in John's arms lull me to sleep.

I thought all the next day about talking more with John while he went to school. When he got back, I hugged him for a long time again, and we watched TV for a while after dinner before going back to his room.

We were quickly kissing again, and his hand went to my waist and pulled me closer before I pulled my head back to speak. "You alright?" he immediately asked.

"I'm fine," I laughed. "I just, um..." I swallowed hard. "Look, I've been thinking about, uh, why I'm not ready." He took my hands in his. "I feel like the idea is just too much for me. I'm scared to just jump into it. So... I kinda... need you to help me ease into it."

John looked at me intently the entire time. He looked like he was thinking about everything I said, and then he grinned a little. "Sure, I'll help you," he said. "Remember what I said yesterday? I said that you liked being on top of me, and you said that you didn't, and I said something along the lines of, 'let's see about that later'?"

"Uh, yeah," I said hesitantly.

"Well, let's see now," he said, smirking.

"Okay," I said, feeling nervously excited. Slowly, John leaned over and kissed me, pulling one hand away from mine and placing it back on my waist. Soon he was kissing along my jaw, and my breathing became shallow.

"I already know you like it when I kiss your neck," he whispered, "and when I bite your ear," and to punctuate, he bit my earlobe gently. His hand glided down from my waist to my hip, and I took in a sharp breath. "I can tell you like that," he added. "Wanna lie down?"

"Sure," I breathed, and the two of us were already moving back, him on top of me. He was much better at supporting himself above me than when I tried to do the same to him. Our lips met again, and he moved the hand on my hip up to my breast, gently pushing down and squeezing. I moaned into his mouth. He did that for a little while longer before his arm wrapped around my back and pulled me towards him.

His hips were rolling into mine, and I felt his lips along my jaw and over to my neck. He gently sucked on my neck, which made me moan again. He pulled away. "Does this feel good?" he asked quietly, not stopping his hips. I blushed, not wanting to answer while he was doing that. "You can tell me," he whispered. "I think it'll make things easier."

"Can you..." I said, trying to compose myself, "can you stop... moving, for a second?"

His hips stopped and he looked into my eyes. "Is this too much?" he asked.

"No," I said quietly, looking away. "Just... why do you think this will make things easier?"

He spoke seriously. "Honestly, I think if you're more comfortable talking about sexual things, which we haven't really done much, you'll be more used to the idea." He paused. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. In fact, you don't have to do any of this, and you can still tell me to stop whenever. We could do something else. But I think this'll help." He paused again. "Do you wanna stop?"

"No," I said again. "I'm okay."

"Okay," he replied, giving me an assuring smile. John went back to kissing me, and soon his hips were moving again. "And so I ask again," he whispered, pulling me close, his face buried in my neck, "does this feel good?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"How?" he asked, placing a kiss behind my ear.

"What?" I asked, not sure what he meant. He leaned his head back to look at me, putting his face close to mine.

"How does this make you feel good?" he asked lowly. "Tell me how it feels."

"Um..." I said, not sure how to describe it. "It feels good, I guess. I don't know. I feel silly."

"Why?"

"Because..." I said, finding it hard to talk while he was moving. My eyes fluttered closed when he pulled me even closer.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"You're doing that on purpose," I breathed, out of air.

"Doing what?" he said knowingly, moving his body closer and moving his hand up to my breast.

"Moving... and touching," I stammered.

"You still haven't told me how it feels," he pressed.

I opened my eyes to try to focus, but I couldn't look at him. "It feels..." I paused. "Do you have to do that while I talk?"

"No, but I want to," he teased. "Keep going."

I shut my eyes again. "It feels... I don't know. I can't do this." All that I could feel was frustration at that point.

"Yes, you can," he said, kissing my jaw. "Just tell me what you feel when you close your eyes. Tell me where you feel it and what it feels like. Like you're writing it down in a book."

I sighed and tried to pay attention to the sensations. "I feel frustrated," I breathed. "And... I feel your lips on my jaw. And they're warm." I paused.

"Keep going," he encouraged, kissing me again.

"And... they feel kind of wet." My cheeks felt hot, and I hoped he wasn't looking at me. "But not in a gross kind of way. It's nice. It makes my skin feel warm when you kiss me and cold when your mouth moves away." I felt myself get lost in what I was feeling. "And I feel your hand on me... and it's warm, and it's moving, and it feels strong... and I feel it on my..." I tried to get out the thought through the embarrassment. "On my... nipples, and it feels like... electric jolts, and they move through me and through my stomach and down to my..." I stopped myself and opened my eyes. John was looking right at me.

I saw the lust in his eyes. "To your what?" he asked quietly, a small smirk on his lips. I was silent. He ran his thumb across my nipples. "Where do you feel it?"

I shut my eyes tightly, feeling exposed and deeply regretting what I started. "At my..." I swallowed, not wanting to sound weird or vulgar. "My... place."

I opened my eyes again only to see a sly smile from him. "And where's that?" he asked playfully.

I felt my blush deepen. "You know where," I murmured.

"No I don't," he teased, even though we both knew that he did. "Where is it?"

He wouldn't stop moving his hips or his hand. I looked away from him, knowing he was looking right at me. "I don't know what to say," I said quietly. "My..." I paused. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," he insisted again. "Is it where you feel my hips?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I said.

"And that is?"

"Do I have to?"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he reassured, "but I'd like to hear you."

I sighed, exasperated. But I did want to say it, I wanted to be brave and get past it and goddammit, get it over with. It was just that I felt so mortified. "I feel it..." My voice dropped so low that even I could barely hear it. "I feel it in my... my clit."

I glanced back to John, and I saw him still looking lustfully at me. "How does your clit feel?" he asked, almost as quiet as me.

I felt my face get hotter, just by hearing him say it. It felt insane. We'd both just said something so intimate, so... dirty, and I couldn't believe it. We'd never talked about any place like that before. And, Jesus, because of those stupid fucking diagrams, we both knew exactly where that place was. "It feels..." I said, closing my eyes to think about it as he rocked into me, "it feels hot, like it's on fire. And it doesn't make sense, but it's in a good way."

"Is that what it felt like when you were squeezing your legs together awhile ago?" he asked. I was surprised that he remembered that; I'd been hoping he wouldn't.

"Yes," I admitted quietly after a moment, and I wanted nothing more than to hide my face with my hands. I tried to calm them by placing them on his chest.

"Is that what it feels like when you get really turned on?" he asked.

"Yes," I repeated. He paused and kept rolling his hips into me.

"I can feel how warm you are," he whispered, "it's like it's radiating off of you." He kept going for a few more seconds as he kissed my neck, and soon, I could feel him grow hard against me. It heightened the senses of everything he was doing.

"I can feel you," I whispered nervously. He smiled lightly.

"Does it feel good?" he asked.

"Yes," I repeated again.

"How?"

"It..." I stumbled over the thought, "it feels like it's pressed against me."

"What's pressed against you where?" he asked.

"Your..." I said, embarrassed to say it and trying to find the right word, "your... erection... against my clit." I felt like everything out of my mouth was either going to sound clinical, like the goddamn diagrams, or vulgar, like things I'd seen on bathroom stalls or heard in the school hallways.

"I like hearing you talk like that," he whispered. "You should more often."

I thought for a moment, and then spoke timidly. "What would you say?" I asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"How... how do you feel?" I looked up at him, curious but still feeling the nervous excitement in my stomach.

I saw him grin a little before answering. He leaned down to my neck. "I feel your skin under my lips," he whispered, kissing me. "It feels warm and smooth. And I feel your breast, and it feels soft and warm. And I feel your hips, and your warmth... and it's like it moves through me and against me, and it feels like I'm aching. And it doesn't make sense, but it's in a good way," he copied me before pausing a second. I could see his smile. "And I don't know if you know it, but I feel you holding pretty tightly onto my shirt right now." He laughed so lightly I could barely hear it. "Is this that intense for you?" he teased.

I suddenly felt self-conscious. My hands loosened around his shirt and went back to gently resting against his chest. "Um... yeah, it kind of is," I answered. "Isn't it that way for you?" I asked, trying to hide the hope in my voice that it was.

"It's probably more," he whispered back, planting his lips onto mine. We silently made out for a few more minutes, enjoying the sensations, before finally stopping.

…..

(John's perspective)

This almost went with what he was already thinking perfectly. Easing her into it. Perfect.

It was one of the hottest goddamn things he'd ever experienced, asking her questions about how she felt and having her talk about her most private places and feelings. He never knew she'd go that far, but it was still amazing. She was so shy, so cute – and the whole time he wouldn't stop moving, wouldn't stop touching, wouldn't stop kissing, so she would keep feeling everything as she spoke. Teasing her and watching her blush was a bonus. Plus, the way she described how she felt let him inside her head a little.

Hearing her ask how he felt was almost as hot. Just knowing that she was thinking about it that deeply. And feeling her grip tighten on his shirt as he described it, like she was so lost in his words and it felt so intense for her that she subconsciously needed something to hold onto. And it felt just as intense, if not more so, for him.

They stayed silent as they kept going for a few more minutes, lost in the feeling of it all, before the two of them stopped slowly and Paige pulled away. "I think I'm ready to stop," she whispered. John leaned down and stole another kiss before he moved off of her.

The two of them sat up on the edge of the bed. John slid his hand over and laced his fingers with hers, sliding his thumb over the back of her hand. She squeezed his hand tightly, looking over at him. Paige quickly leaned over and planted a loving kiss on his cheek before he could even blink, making him smile broadly. She smiled back sweetly. "I love you," he said happily, unable to contain the words.

"I love you, too," she replied.

He thought for a moment, looking into her eyes. "I think I already have an idea for tomorrow," he said.

Her response was only an eye roll, eliciting a laugh from him.

The next day, after John got home from school, he started looking around for the right board game. When he found the perfect one, he took it to his room and sat on the floor with a notebook and pencil. The largest component of the idea he'd already started to form the day before came to him during a particularly boring class, and now he was trying to write it down and make it up more as he went.

Paige walked in not too long after, and he quickly hid what he was doing. She had a curious expression. "What're you up to?" she asked.

"You'll see later," he replied. "Just wait."

"Alright then," she said, raising an eyebrow and walking away slowly. He got up and shut the door after her.

After dinner that evening, he'd just about finished. John invited Paige in to see the game he'd come up with.

"Jenga?" she asked right off the bat. "Are you serious?"

He laughed. "Bare with me," he said. "I changed it a little. Look, let's just sit and try, and if you don't like it we can stop."

She looked warily at him, but sat down anyways. He'd set up a card table and two chairs in the space in front of his bed. She sat in the chair closest to the bed, and he sat across from her and started to set up the tower. She glanced to the corner of the small table beside him. "What's with the notebook?" she asked.

"I'll get to that," John assured. "First let me tell you the rules." Paige nodded and helped him set up the rest of the tower. "It's just like regular Jenga, obviously, but with a twist." She shook her head and smiled lightly, making him return the grin. "Yeah, I know, it's dorky, but just listen. So, for every piece I remove, I get to ask you a question." He held up the questions he'd written down, but hid the pen under the table. "Any question I want." Her expression changed, and he could see her shift uncomfortably in her seat. "For every three pieces you remove, you get a free pass on any question, except if you knock it down."

"What happens then?" she asked.

"If you knock it down, I get to keep asking you questions until you set it up again. If I knock it down, we end the game." John could see her nervously playing with her hands. "But you don't have to play," he reassured. "And we can stop whenever you want. The rules are just there to make it easier." He could sense her hesitation. "Just try," he pressed. "If you don't like it we can stop, I promise. Nothing bad's gonna happen if you just try. Shit, I might even knock it down in the first minute."

Paige looked down at her hands for a moment. "Okay," she finally agreed, "but I wanna go first."

"Fair enough," he conceded. She carefully considered which piece she would remove, finally touching and successfully removing one after a moment, gently and slowly placing it on top.

John looked over the tower and removed his own piece, putting it on top. Paige looked worriedly at him, so he opened up his notebook and picked an easy question. "What were you thinking about right before we first kissed?"

At this, she visibly relaxed. He could see her look up as if she could see the memory in the air above them. "I was about to tell you I liked you," she said. "And when you said that you liked me, I felt so happy that I wanted to be brave. And I was so excited and I just kissed you, and then I was just taking it all in." She smiled. "What were you thinking about?"

He laughed. "Well, I didn't know you liked me, and I felt stupid as shit because I told you that and I thought things would be super awkward. And your kissed kinda shocked me, so I was just thinking, _holy shit, is this real?_" He returned her smile. "Okay, your turn."

Paige looked carefully at the tower again and chose another piece. "Your turn," she said after balancing it.

John took out his piece and put it back on. He wanted to ease into more intense questions. "What's your favorite weather to have a romantic day in?"

"I like it when it's storming outside," she replied.

"Why?" he asked, secretly writing her response down under the table.

"You don't get two questions," she insisted. "You have to take out a piece first."

John turned his head to the side. "I guess we're playing hardball," he teased. He sighed mockingly. "Well, if you say so. Your turn."

She looked like she was trying to act tough. He smiled to himself. She thought all the questions would be easy. She was getting cocky. Paige took out another piece and put it on top. She had a free pass. "Your turn," she repeated.

John took his turn almost effortlessly. "Why?" he asked. He wouldn't get to the other questions just yet.

She considered this. "I like how, sometimes, you can say things when it's raining that you can't say when it's not. It sets a kinda quiet mood that's romantic to me. And when there's thunder and lightening, it feels like you can just... cuddle, I guess, with someone, or just be close to them, like you're both afraid even when both of you know that neither of you really are. And you can just listen to the rain and thunder together." She sighed quietly, snapping out of her daydreaming description.

He smiled at her. "Your turn," he said quietly, also a little lost in her words. She went. He went after her. "What's something that you want me to do more often?" he asked.

She played with her fingers, watching them as though they were the most interesting things in the world. She did have a pass, plus one more. "Biting," she said quietly as a blush formed on her cheeks. "I like the biting."

John grinned at her, liking her response. Her answer went down in the notebook again. "Your turn," he said. Paige pulled out another piece and put it on top. He did the same. This question he carefully considered. "Do you like it when I whisper romantic things to you?"

She wouldn't meet his gaze. "Yes," she said softly. She very slowly moved a piece. He followed.

"Do you like it when I whisper dirty things to you?" he asked.

Paige was still playing with her fingers. "Yes," she replied. John could see her hands try to move a piece carefully, but they were too unsteady, and the tower came tumbling down. "Dammit," she said under her breath.

"Wait," he said before she could try to build up the tower. "Alright, the rules for this are mostly there for me." He grinned. "So, you can't set up the tower while you're answering. The only time you can set it up is when I'm asking questions. That way you can't spend the whole time 'thinking.'" He put air quotes around the last word, which made her curse under her breath. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Paige took a deep breath. "Yeah," she said, and she got her hands ready to set up.

"Do you like it when I tease you when we're kissing?" he asked slower than he should have, but he wanted to be fair. Her hands moved quickly, then stopped when the last word left his mouth.

She played with one of the pieces still in her hand. "Kinda," she admitted, her face growing red. He tried not to smile.

"Enough that you want me to keep doing it?" he asked. Her hands stopped.

"Yes," she answered quietly.

"Do you like it when I'm on top of you?" he asked.

"Yes." The tower was slowly making its way up.

"What are your three favorite places to be touched and why?"

Paige thought about this one. He felt clever for adding the "and why" so that it was technically all one question. "My sides or my stomach, because it kinda tickles," she said, smiling slightly for a moment, "my... breasts, because... they feel sensitive, in a good way, and my neck, because it makes me shiver." John loved how honest she was being. She must've been committed to the game.

"Alright," John began, "before I ask you another question, let me just warn you, these get pretty personal and... intimate." She nodded slightly, and she looked like she was bracing herself to be electrically shocked. "This is where we really get to the point of all of this," he added, "but you can still stop if it's too much." She nodded again. He was a little excited about this part, admittedly. Still, he was going to start with the least personal of the personal questions. He thought for a moment. "What color underwear are you wearing?" he asked finally.

Paige's eyes practically popped out of her head as her hands stopped moving. "What kind of question is that?"

"One that'll get you out of your comfort zone," he replied.

"Or one that'll sure be fun for you," she replied sarcastically.

"Well, sure, that too," he joked, "but seriously. It'll get you talking about something intimate, something personal. I warned you, didn't I? And what, you think I won't see your underwear when we have sex?"

She seemed taken aback by the last question, one which didn't let her continue building. John could see her shift uncomfortably again. Getting out of her comfort zone. She continued playing with her hands, not meeting his intent gaze. "I mean..." she said, looking exasperated, "you... you will, but... I don't know, I just thought..."

"Thought what?" he broke in, hoping he'd get more information than he'd asked for.

"Nothing," she said quickly, soon realizing what he was doing. She sat there silently for a minute.

"You still haven't answered the question," he said. She looked up at him for a split second, like she forgot he was still there, before staring back down at her hands.

"They're..." she began, but then she shook her head, letting out a breath. "This is silly."

"No, it's not," he said, trying to encourage her. "It was a serious question, and I seriously want to hear the serious answer. Seriously." He smiled at her, hoping she would see and feel more lighthearted about everything, but she just smiled faintly and kept her gaze down.

"They're blue," she said quietly after a moment, "with white polka dots." Her hands moved back to the top of the table so she could reach more blocks.

He wondered if she would even answer his other questions, considering how much more personal they got compared to that one. He'd try to lead her up to them. "What do you want me to call you when we have sex?"

"I don't know... my name, I guess." She still wouldn't look up at him for more then half a second, even after her hands stopped moving.

"No, I mean... like, have you ever thought about me calling you something, or you calling me something? Like 'baby' or something?"

Paige made a face. "I always thought 'baby' was kinda creepy."

"'Honey'?"

This time she gave a small smirk. "That's what middle-aged people call their spouses," she said.

"'Darling'?"

"Ugh," she said, making another face, this time more disgustedly, "I once heard this really sexist guy start calling a waitress darling, which wasn't that bad, but... I won't be able to get that out of my head."

He shook his head, smiling slightly. "What about 'sweetheart'?"

"Eh, not a fan," she said.

"Yeah, you're right..." John agreed, trying to think. "What about 'beautiful'?" he asked. "Or... 'love'? Something like that?"

She half-shrugged. "Those aren't bad, I guess, but I don't know. I'd feel kinda weird."

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "I'd just feel kinda awkward."

"Well, I'll just try it sometime, and see how you feel then. Maybe you can try it on me at some point." He wrote them down in his notebook, temporarily glad that she wasn't looking at him.

"So..." he continued, deciding upon another question, "would you want me to wear less when we sleep? Or have you thought about me or you wearing less?" He usually just wore sweatpants and a t-shirt, ever since Paige got here, but before that he'd only wear that much if it was cold, otherwise wearing just his boxers and probably a t-shirt. She wore the same type of thing, but he'd sometimes wondered what it would be like if he wasn't there...

He could see a small blush form on her cheeks. She played with a block nervously, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "I... I don't know, I've sometimes... thought about what it would be like if you were... shirtless." He could've sworn that she sunk into her chair a little. "If I could even see you that way..." she shook her head. "I wondered what it would be like to... cuddle, with you, that way. And your skin would be warm... I've even..." she shook her head again, like she was trying to shake it clear. "I've even thought about, sometimes, when we're lying in the bed... you without pants." The blush deepened. "And, I, um... I would want you to, I guess, but I want to wait for... later."

John's smile widened the more she spoke. That was goddamn hot. He wrote a note down to himself, thinking about how much more hot it would be if they were partially clothed. He'd thought about it before, but not extensively, and the idea wouldn't lead to anywhere that'd allow him to focus, so he decided on another question. She got her hands ready. He decided to turn up the heat a little. "Where has my tongue never been that you wish it'll go?" He tried not to smile to himself as she grew obviously shocked by the question.

Paige looked like she was trying to compose herself for a moment as she thought. "Under..." she began, then she dropped her voice to a murmur, "under my bra."

He smirked. "And where's that?"

She blushed again, still speaking quietly. "My breasts." When the words were out, she took a deep breath.

John thought that she could handle the next question. He looked at her for a moment before asking, trying to keep his voice quiet and gentle. "Have you thought about having sex?"

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Fucking Jenga. Goddamn, motherfucking, stupid as shit Jenga was making me more nervous than I thought I'd ever be.

Each question seemed to escalate, and I couldn't bear the thought of looking at John for even a second. I was blushing almost constantly, and I kept subconsciously playing with my fingers or shifting in my seat. Me knocking the tower down just didn't seem fair. But I went with it, knowing I could quit whenever I wanted to.

The fucking underwear question was what really got me. I couldn't tell if he really asked it to get me out of my comfort zone, which, admittedly, worked well, or if he was just doing it for himself. The most embarrassing part to me was that I knew he wouldn't just be hearing a color, he'd be _thinking_ about me in that color almost naked. It was embarrassing that he thought of the question itself, because I knew that that meant he'd thought of it before.

Secretly, I thought that if he were to call me "beautiful" or "love" in bed, my heart would flutter. But I didn't say it because I didn't want him to think he had to call me that, and I would probably feel awkward if he did. Every other option he gave me would make me feel even more so.

The tongue question made me really uncomfortable. I'd actually thought about that before – fantasized, even, to some extent – but I didn't want to say so. I told him where it was, and I couldn't help thinking about it as I spoke, which made me uncomfortable because I felt turned on just by what he was asking me, and I knew he was looking, and I knew that he knew.

But this question I just couldn't take. I didn't want to answer it before, and I didn't want to now. "Pass," I said quickly, looking up at him for a moment.

John smiled playfully. "You can't pass, you're still building up the tower." My heart sank. I didn't want to quit, not yet, but I couldn't pass. And I knew if I lied he would know it, and I knew if I said yes he would ask me something else I didn't want to answer. Maybe I did want to quit– the questions would probably only get worse from there. But, no, I wanted to keep going. This was the whole fucking point, and I didn't make it this far for nothing. "I think I already know the answer," he said suddenly. "You know I know when you lie, and if you're trying to pass, it must be for a reason. Besides, why do you think I'd ask it again?"

I decided to speak. "I have," I said.

"In what way?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've thought about it like you've wondered about it, or like you've pictured it?"

I paused. I wanted to hide my face in my hands again. "Both," I replied, my voice as quiet as a mouse.

"Did you like it?" he asked quietly. I nodded, my cheeks growing warm. "What have you wondered about?"

I thought. "What it would feel like," I replied, "and... what it would be like, and... look like."

"How did you picture it?"

I shifted uncomfortably again. "I don't know..." I stalled, trying to think.

"Would you say you've fantasized about it? Have you fantasized about our first time?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, playing with my hands.

He leaned forward a little. "Tell me about it."

…..

(John's perspective)

He was finally getting somewhere. He got her to admit that she _had_ thought about having sex. And now she was going to, hopefully, tell him about her fantasy of their first time.

Her eyes darted back and forth between her two hands. "It's stupid," she said finally.

John's heart sank. He didn't want her to feel that way. He didn't want her to think that he would feel that way. "Can you look at me, please?" he asked. She wouldn't. This question must've hit somewhere he hadn't anticipated. John reached his hand across the table, facing his palm up invitingly. She was still playing with her fingers. "Please, Paige," he pressed. She slowly took his hand and looked up at him. "I wanna help you get over whatever it is you're feeling," he said, looking into her eyes and squeezing her hand gently. "I know there's something that I just don't get going on. I think I have a suspicion, though." He paused and rubbed her hand with his thumb. "It's _not_ stupid. It's your fantasy, and it can be whatever the hell you fucking want it to be."

She pressed her lips together. "But what if you think..." she stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "I don't know. I don't want you to think I'm weird."

He looked at her, wondering what really was going on. He had this feeling that it was all just her insecurity. That the reason she didn't want to open up was not only because it felt too intense, but also because she felt self-conscious about it. She'd be acting differently if it was just intensity. She'd be acting the way she did earlier when he asked her to say intimate things. He thought of something. "Would you feel less weird if I told you mine?"

Paige's eyes widened for just a moment, and then she looked down for a second like she was trying to hide her curiosity. Then her expression changed slightly. "Um... actually, I think that might make it worse."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because..." she began, looking down for a few more moments, "what if yours is different than mine and it makes me feel like mine is weird, and then I don't tell you, which wouldn't be fair because you told me yours?"

He was a little baffled. "Well, uh... do you just want to tell me yours, and then I'll tell you mine after?" She was silent, playing with a block in her other hand. They always had to be occupied when she was like this. "I was the one who asked for it. It's your fantasy, you don't have to change it or not tell it to me because you think I'll think it's weird. I asked because I want to know what you think about, not what you think I want you to think about. If I thought it would be weird or I was gonna judge you for it I wouldn't have asked." She remained silent. "Please tell me," he said, this time quieter, hoping it would make her more comfortable.

"I..." she said, "I don't know where to begin."

"Okay..." he said, thinking. "Just... start anywhere. What the day would be like, what it would be like before, all throughout, all after. I wanna know everything, even if you think it would never happen in real life. Tell me like it's in a shitty romance novel where they always have the most unrealistic first time ever."

Paige smiled faintly at his joke and then seemed to be thinking. "I don't know..." she began. "I guess I thought it would be kind of a special day or time or whatever, for some reason. Maybe we did something special or it just felt special. We would just feel so connected that we would both know the exact right moment, even though we would both be kind of planning on it for a little while. We would be in here. And... you'd, um, kiss me, and it would be so gentle but passionate at the same time. And we'd just feel like magnets, and everything would be so slow and gently passionate and loving and kind of a way to explore for the both of us. Then we would kiss, and you'd kiss my neck and touch me, and soon I'd... be brave enough to take off your shirt, and then you'd take off mine, and we would look at each other."

She was looking less like her gaze was down and more like she was staring at the air in front of the table, off into space, distantly. She was lost in her fantasy, which he loved. He listened intently, secretly scribbling every detail and trying to memorize the way she spoke every word and how excited she got over everything. "And I'd get to touch your skin, and it would feel warm," she continued, "and you would touch mine, it would feel electric and sensitive. And we'd kiss for a little while longer as we touched. Then you'd... take off my bra," a small blush formed on her cheeks, "and you'd see me..."

Paige cleared her throat slightly. "Then you'd touch my breasts, and it would feel so warm and wonderful, like how you usually touch me but magnified. And then you'd... you'd push me back, and we would lie down on your bed, and you'd pull me close and I'd pull you close and we'd feel each other's backs on our fingertips, and I would feel my breasts pressed against your chest. Then, before you'd... move your hips, you would... uh, you'd..." she struggled a little to get it out, but eventually she continued, "you'd start kissing down my neck, but you'd keep going down, really slowly..." Her face got red, and her grip was kind of tight on his hand and the block she'd been playing with. She shifted in her seat. He could tell just by looking at her that talking about it was turning her on.

"So you'd keep going, and you would kiss my breasts really gently, and then you'd... put my nipple in your mouth. And then after a little while you'd move back up to kissing me, and eventually you'd, um... start unbuttoning my jeans, and you'd pull them off, and you'd look at me and slide your hands up the outside of my thighs. And I'd move my hands to your jeans and pull them down, and I'd look at you, and we'd kiss a little more. That's when we'd start moving our hips, and it would feel even better with less layers. And you'd be... hard.

"Then you'd take off my underwear, and I would take off yours... slowly, though, so we could take in each other. And we'd just look for a little while, before... you'd touch me, or I'd touch you. And we would just explore each other for a while. Then you'd..." her face became more red, "you'd... enter me, slowly, while you'd kiss me. And I know it's supposed to hurt, but in my fantasy it just... doesn't. And we would moan, and we'd move our hips until we got into a rhythm. Then I would pull you really close to me until our chests were pressed together, and you'd move your hand to... my clit. And it would be really slow at first, just to take in every feeling, but we'd get into a rhythm and soon we would both... finish, at almost the same time, and...

"Then you would just hold me, and I would hold onto you, for a long time. And we'd get under the covers, and our bodies would be so close together already that I... I wouldn't have to be afraid of getting close anymore. And you'd play with my hair, and I'd rest on your chest, and we would both feel so warm and happy and tired that we would fall asleep."

John was stunned. Her description was so in depth but vague at the same time, which he kind of liked. He heard a lot but was left with the slightest bit of mystery. He liked hearing her talk about it enough that he felt a little turned on, too. And her fantasy was so loving and sweet and beautiful, just like her, that he couldn't help smiling.

Paige looked up from the table, snapping out of her daze. She met his eyes and saw his smile. She already looked adorable coming out of her dreamlike state, but seeing her look back down and smile faintly, a rosy blush on her cheeks, made her look even cuter. He rubbed his thumb across her hand again, which he was still holding. "That was sweet and beautiful," he told her, copying what he was thinking almost exactly and gazing into her sweet and beautiful complexion, "just like you." Her blush deepened and she squeezed his hand. "I like hearing you get lost in your fantasies. It turned me on a little." He smirked, lowering his voice just a little. "Did it turn you on, too?"

Her other hand played with the block again. "Kinda, yeah," she murmured. He looked at her for a moment as she seemed to be thinking. "Does this mean the game's over?"

He almost forgot about the game. He realized that the last few questions she'd answered without even remembering to pay attention to the tower, which made him pay attention less, but he didn't want to point that out in case she'd do it again without realizing.

And he knew it wasn't over. It was far from that. "No," he replied, "not yet."

...

**[A/N: Please please please leave a review! I love hearing them, even if they're two words long. I'd love to hear a more in-depth one, though. Thanks for reading!]**


	20. Chapter 20-Fantasy

**[A/N: HAPPY 20th CHAPTER EVERYONE! Woo, here's to twenty more!**

**Again, sexual themes, viewer's discretion advised. Enjoy!]**

...

(John's perspective)

Paige looked confused. "But..." she began innocently, "wasn't that the... most personal question? What else could you even ask me?" She looked like she regretted the last question slightly.

"I'm glad you asked," he teased. "Ready?" She sighed quietly and got ready to continue building. He took that as a yes. "Where are some places other than our beds that you'd want to have sex, and why?"

She stopped her hands and thought. "Sometimes," she said, "I've thought about going somewhere private but outside, like in a meadow, or on a blanket in the forest. I like the idea of having the outside air and beauty and just a change of scenery."

John wrote it down in his notebook. "Have you ever thought about strip teasing?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, taking your clothes off and dancing?"

Her face flushed. "I... I don't know," she replied, "I haven't really." She paused. "Is... is that something you'd want?"

John grinned slightly. "I can't say I haven't thought about it," he said. "I like the idea. But I was just wondering if you thought about that, or even thought about me doing that, if that's what you're into." When he mentioned the last part, her face became more red, and she looked visibly uncomfortable. "What?" he teased.

"I... I just..." she mumbled, looking embarrassed, "the thought of you..." Her voice was quiet and she trailed off. His grin widened.

"Would you ever want me to do that for you?" he asked, admittedly thinking the idea was a little silly.

Paige shook her head a little. "No..." she replied, "I think that would just make me uncomfortable. No offense."

"None taken," he assured. He was silent for a moment. "Would you ever do that for me?"

She shifted in her seat at the question. "I... I can't imagine myself doing something like that. Dancing in front of you, especially... partially clothed."

"Why?" he asked.

"I'd just feel... I don't know, kind of awkward and silly."

John smiled a little. "I don't know why you'd feel that way," he said. "I swear, you pick up everything so easily that just dancing a little wouldn't even be an issue. And you have a beautiful body." He tried to sound a little intimate. "I'd love to see it move," he said, smirking a little, "especially partially clothed."

Her face was really red now. "You've never even seen my body," she said quietly.

"I've never seen it without clothes," he said, "but I've seen it. I've seen you." She looked down, but he caught her smiling a little as she played with her fingers.

"Maybe someday," she said finally, vaguely.

"That's enough for me," he joked. "Okay, so..." he looked down at his notebook, "what other positions would you want to try?"

Paige still played with a new block in her hands after almost every time she built up the tower a little. "I don't know," she began, "in my fantasy, I always thought of you... on top. But maybe... with me on top. Or... with us both lying on our sides. I don't know, I haven't really thought about that before." She had a small blush on her cheeks now.

He wrote down her answer again. He liked the idea of her on top of him, grinding her hips, holding onto his chest for support, her breasts moving slightly. But he'd never thought about them both lying down, and the idea seemed gentle and intimate and slow. He liked that thought, too.

"Have you ever thought about more than just penetrative sex?" he asked.

Now her face was bright red. She looked down at her hands quickly and stared at them for a few moments before answering. "Sometimes," she said quietly.

John tried to match her volume. "What have you thought about?"

Paige shifted in her seat again, still staring at her hands. "I've thought about..." she struggled to say, "oral, in... both ways." He smirked a little but tried to hide it as he wrote in his notebook. "And... I've thought about us just... using our hands on each other, to... finish."

"I've thought about that too," he said, and she swallowed. "I can't wait to." He left that to her imagination and moved onto another question. "Would you ever want to use toys?"

Her eyes didn't raise from her hands. "Like... sex toys?" John nodded as she quickly glanced up at him. "I don't know. I'm curious, I guess. I've sometimes wondered... what a vibrator would feel like. But other than that I don't know." John scribbled in his notebook.

"I wonder what you'd look like if I used one on you," he commented almost quietly. She blushed once again. He tried to say things like that to see her reactions and make her think about it. He wanted her to know that he thought about sex, too, and he wanted her to see that some of the things she said weren't far off from what he thought about. Plus, it was obviously turning her on, which turned him on, and the thought of using something like that on her was pretty hot, amongst other things. And he wasn't lying: he really did wonder what it would look like.

He wondered things like that kind of often. He wondered how often she thought about these things, but that would feel like he was comparing himself against her if he asked, so he didn't. He just wanted to know the likeliness of her being turned on throughout the day.

"Have you ever thought about having not-so-gentle sex?" John asked.

Paige fidgeted. "Sometimes," she replied. "Sometimes I imagine it as less gentle and slow and more passionate. Just... just really heated. Sometimes I've... I've kinda liked the idea of you being... rough, I guess, even when we're just kissing." She fidgeted again, and he was starting to think that every time she did that she was trying to squeeze her legs together in a different way. He smiled at the thought.

"What's that mean to you?" he asked.

"I don't know..." Paige said, blushing, so he knew she did. "Sometimes I've kinda wanted... it... it's stupid."

"No, it's not," John insisted. "I want to know what you want."

She spoke quietly. "I've thought about you... it's really stupid, but I've thought about you kind of... taking control, I guess, just a little, and... I've had this one sort of fantasy where you... push me against a wall or something, a little forcefully, passionately, and make out with me."

He smirked. "I've thought of the same thing," he said, "I've just been worried about making you feel uncomfortable if I did. I should try that soon." He caught a small, excited smile on her lips as she blushed. The thought of doing that excited him a little, too, and he made sure to make note of it in his book.

For the next question, he thought that speaking quietly would help. He wondered if she would even want to answer it as he leaned in a little. "Do you ever touch yourself?" he almost whispered.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

These questions were getting to me big time. Sometimes my stomach felt like it would leap into my throat, and my heart would pop out of my chest, and my face would get so hot it would melt off. I was so shaky at points that I had to occupy my hands to distract myself or hide it. And, if I was being totally honest with myself, some of these questions and the comments John was making were turning me on, kind of a lot. At times I'd shift so I could squeeze my legs together in a way that would get me relief. Other times I would shift just because I was uncomfortable.

They got so personal and intimate that I was shocked that I was still sitting there, let alone answering every question. And the things I was admitting to shocked me. They were so secretive to me. They still were. That's what it felt like– like I was telling my deepest, darkest secrets to John.

The last question made the heat rush to my face faster than my heart was beating. My stomach was flipping over and over and over. That was worse than everything before.

I knew the answer. And that was exactly why I didn't want to say anything. I felt his hand grab mine away from the block that was in my hands, and I jumped a little. "Paige?" he asked.

"What?" I said, dazed.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "You feel a little shaky." His hand gently squeezed and stroked mine.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, snapping out of it, "just... nervous."

"Do you want to stop?" he asked.

"Um..." I considered. I didn't want to answer the question, but I didn't want to stop either. "No, I just... I don't know. I feel really nervous."

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "This is really embarrassing, for one, but other than that... I don't know, I fell really exposed."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know... I know it's just you, but it feels like I'm sharing it with the world."

"How can I help that?" he asked. "Do you want me to close my eyes?"

I laughed a little. "No, that's okay. I don't think you can help it very much."

John smiled. "I think I have an idea."

Lately, his ideas worked, but they also embarrassed me, so I was hesitant. "I..."

"Just come on and help me," he insisted, and then he started taking the covers off of his bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Getting blankets. Can you get a couple of brooms or something like that? And a flashlight or two?"

"Why?" I was so confused and a little frustrated with how vague I knew he was purposefully being.

"I'm gonna make a fort."

"_Why_?" I asked. He was being so random.

"Just trust me," he said again. I left to get the brooms just to get away from him for a moment. When I came back and handed him the brooms, he said, "Help me set it up."

"Where?" I asked.

"Over the table."

"Why?"

"I can't explain it very well," he said, "but you'll see."

I sighed. John and I put the brooms up and the blankets he'd gathered over them until there was a tent over the table. "Now what?" I said.

"Get in," he said, moving over to turn off the lights. He lifted a blanket to get inside and sat back down. I followed.

Once inside, he handed me a flashlight and we turned them on. It was lit up inside the blankets, but if they weren't on, we wouldn't be able to see at all. I sat there for a moment or two. "I don't get it," I said.

"Doesn't it feel like we're the only two people in the world?" he whispered. I took in the atmosphere we'd created and suddenly felt it. As silly as it was, it really did.

"Yeah, kinda," I whispered back, feeling the need to for some unknown reason.

"Can I ask you now?" he whispered. I took a deep breath and nodded, slightly hesitant. "Do you ever touch yourself?"

I sat there in silence for a little too long before I finally turned off my flashlight.

…..

(John's perspective)

"Why'd you do that?" he asked. She hadn't answered him and instead turned off her light. She was dim, but he indirectly put the light on her so he could see her better.

"Don't do that," she said calmly.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to look at me," she replied. He considered this.

"I wanna look at you," John said.

"But..." Paige protested quietly, but she trailed off. He reached over and took her hand like he had done before.

"Please turn on your light," he insisted, "I wanna look at you."

"Can we just leave on your light?" she asked.

He put his flashlight on the table so that it's light pointed upwards and poorly lit the fort they'd made. It was kind of a shitty flashlight. But he could still see her face, and that was what he'd really asked for. "Sure."

He stroked her palm soothingly and waited for an answer. As silly as the last few minutes had been, thinking about her touching herself was turning him on a little, and he could tell even in the low light that she was at least a little turned on too. She looked down to her other hand. "Sometimes," she whispered. He tried to hide his smirk, but it wouldn't have mattered, because she didn't look up at him for even half a second.

"Where?" he asked. She shifted.

"My... clit," she whispered. He couldn't see very well, but he knew her face would be red.

"How?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"How do you touch yourself? Do you finger yourself, do you just play with your clit, do you touch your breasts too?" God, he knew that string of words would make her uncomfortable. He also knew it would turn her on more. That's why he said them the way he did. "Describe it to me," he said.

"I..." she began, shifting in her seat again. She squeezed his hand pretty tightly, probably without realizing it. "I don't... finger myself. But I touch my clit... and sometimes my breasts. I..." she took a deep breath. "I... rub it in circles, and when I touch my breasts it's kinda the way you do." Her other hand was playing with a block again.

"How often do you do that?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes remained on her fingers. "Not... not a lot. Just... when I get really turned on. Usually after you, um... move your hips into me."

John wrote a little note. "Did you come when you did?" he asked.

Paige's eyes widened, which he could see even in the dark. Then she looked embarrassed. "No," she said quietly, and she didn't seem to be lying.

He couldn't hold back a small laugh. "So you just let yourself get all worked up?" he asked.

Her hand loosened and pulled away. "Don't laugh at me," she said defensively. "I just... can't do it."

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said, reaching his hand back out to hers. "It's just kinda... hot to think about. Your own fingers can't even get you off..." He mildly regretted his last sentence as she made a face. "But, look, it's not like it's some achievement."

"I know, I just..." she fidgeted, eventually moving her hand back to his open one and squeezing lightly. "Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Touched yourself," she said lowly.

"Honestly?" he questioned. "A few times." He studied her expression. "Does that bother you?"

"No," she said after a moment. "I didn't really expect anything different." She paused. "So you've.. finished?"

"Why do you call it that?" he asked, smiling.

"I don't like saying it the other way," she said quietly.

"You can say it, just so you know. And... yeah, I have."

"Oh," she said, a little disappointingly.

"What?"

"I don't know..." she mumbled. "I just kinda thought that I'd be the one to..." she trailed off again.

He smiled. "Make me come?" he asked. She nodded sheepishly. "Jesus, Paige, getting to come with you would be unlike anything I've ever done." She looked down, and he knew she was blushing.

After a few seconds, Paige looked up at him for a moment. "What does it feel like?" she asked.

"Indescribable," John replied. "But I can't even imagine it with you." After another few seconds, he said, "Do you know what this means?"

"What?" she asked.

"I'm going to be the first one to make you come," he said, making her blush again, "and I'm going to get to watch you come for the first time." God, he couldn't wait for that. She shifted in her seat again. "Are you ready for another question?" he asked.

Paige looked hesitant. She must not have liked the last question very much. "Yeah," she said finally.

"Have you ever watched porn?" John asked. She looked down shamefully, but he didn't want her to feel that way. "If you have," he said, "it's okay. I think everyone does at some point. Kind of like touching yourself. It's just... natural." He smiled slightly and squeezed her hand. She still didn't speak. "I have," he admitted, "if that makes you feel better."

She finally spoke. "A few times," she mumbled.

He grinned and was glad she wasn't looking at him. "Have you ever touched yourself while watching it?" he asked. She nodded slowly and looked up at him for a moment, then looked back down at her fingers. "What kind of porn was it?" he asked.

Her voice was quiet. "Most of it was actually stories," she said, "and they were kind of romantic, but... I watched, maybe, three videos, and they were all about..."

"About what?" he asked when she started to fall silent.

"Um... I don't know how to say it without sounding... dirty." She blushed slightly.

"Just try your best," he encouraged. "I don't mind if you sound dirty."

"Well, um..." she continued, "they were all where a guy... goes down on a girl." She blushed hard, and he stifled a laugh at how she described it. He wouldn't have minded if she just said the dirty name for it, but he didn't want to force her, and he knew it would only make her feel more uncomfortable.

"I've watched one of those," he said, grinning. "I'd like to try it at some point." He left it to her imagination again and saw her shift in her seat. "Would you ever want to watch it with me?" he asked.

Her eyes looked back up at him for another brief moment. "I don't really get why we would," she said lowly. "It just sounds... awkward."

John grinned again. "I think it would be fun," he said. "We'd both be sitting there, getting really turned on. Maybe we could touch each other a little, or kiss a little." He paused, thinking of something. "You could touch yourself, or I could help you get off, since your fingers can't do it by themselves." Her face visibly flushed at his words and she swallowed. "Would you like that?" he asked quietly.

"I'd, um..." Paige stammered, "I'd like to someday, later on." She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat again.

"Does the thought of it turn you on?" he asked.

"I don't know..." she said, avoiding what he knew was the real answer.

"Why wouldn't it?" he teased. "Just imagine, you'd sit in my lap, and we'd watch whatever you want together as we both get really hot. And instead of touching myself, I'd reach my hand down your jeans to touch you." He liked watching her get flustered from how turned on she was by his words. He just liked knowing that he'd turned her on. "I'd touch you just the way you'd touch yourself, but I'd be just a little stronger than you, and feeling my hand and watching with me as you feel me against you would send you over the edge. Wouldn't it?" He paused to look at her. "It looks like it's going to now," he teased.

She snapped out of it just a little. "No, it's not," she protested.

"Don't be embarrassed," he said. "I think it's hot, knowing that the thought of me touching you and making you come turns you on. Knowing that me _talking_ about touching you and making you come turns you on."

"I..." she said, but she trailed off, accepting it. "I don't know, I guess... the idea turns me on a little." She blushed, making him smirk.

"Well, that's good, because it's going to happen for you someday." He paused while she wasn't looking to write it all down. "Alright," he said, "there's only one more question. Ready?"

Paige breathed a sigh of what he guessed was relief. "Yeah," she replied.

John spoke curiously and quietly. "What's your wildest, craziest, dirtiest fantasy?"

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Oh dear god.

I couldn't believe that I'd admitted that to him. Jesus, I'd told him so much... It was so damn embarrassing. And he just kept holding my hand and looking right at me, and I knew he could read every expression, every word, every movement and tell exactly what I was thinking.

He was saying the dirtiest things. Not only that, but it sounded like he was saying them just to turn me on. And it worked.

But, fuck, I'd admitted that I touched myself. I'd admitted that I touched myself and had never even been able to make myself come. I'd admitted that I touched myself while I watched porn, and fuck it all, I wanted to crawl under the bed and never have him look at me again. Yet all the while, I felt so damn turned on. I just wanted him to do the things he was saying – push me against a wall and make out with me, make me come, go down on me, help me get off while watching a dirty video. But the idea embarrassed me to no end.

Now John asked me what my wildest fantasy was, and since I knew it was the last question, I seriously didn't want to answer. This was just too much to share. It was too weird, it was something he'd laugh at, and it was something that would embarrass me so much I wouldn't want to look at him ever again. So I said, "I don't think I wanna play anymore," as quiet as a mouse. I began to pull my hand away and stand, but he squeezed it tighter and gently tried to pull me back down.

"Wait," he said, "please." I looked at him for a few more seconds, seriously contemplating my options, before I finally decided to let him try and convince me. I sat down again. "Look, I know it's really, really personal stuff. I know it's stuff you'd normally never say. I know it's pretty damn embarrassing, and it's just uncomfortable. And I know you don't want to say and you think it's difficult to say. But all I want right now is to hear it. I don't care if you're into some weird shit. You could be turned on by something involving... I don't know, balloons and pigs and the color blue. It doesn't matter. I wanna hear it so that I get what you really like, and someday, later on, I can help make it a reality for you."

John stroked my hand, and while I kind of wanted to slap him, I let him do it anyways as I played with another block. I thought about how I'd basically forgotten about the game for the last few questions. I'd been so distracted by my own mortification that I didn't even remember to try to end it. Hilarious.

I thought and I thought, going through the pros and cons in my head about telling him. On the one hand, it would bring me closer to him, he was the only one I would ever want to share it with anyways, and he might actually want to do it. On the other hand, he might think it's weird, and if he did, I wouldn't want to share anything with anyone anymore, and he might not want to do anything with me anymore because of it.

I felt like the cons outweighed the pros, but I felt stupid for feeling so afraid of sharing things this entire time. I just wanted to be open, but it was so damn hard. In a ridiculous, rash decision, I took a leap. "Okay," I said finally. "I... It's hard to explain, so just try to listen before you say anything, and if you think it's weird please please _please_ just pretend none of this ever happened."

"I won't think it's weird," he protested.

"Yes, you will," I muttered to myself, but he heard me and squeezed my hand to get me out of it.

"I swear I won't," he insisted. "But if by some weird imbalance in the universe I do think it's weird, I'll forget I even asked, I promise."

…..

(John's perspective)

He was so glad she wasn't going to leave. He was so close to finishing all of the questions, and he'd written down everything, including extra thoughts and some of her expressions, down in his notebook. And now he'd get to hear something that, when fulfilled, would make her so happy and turned on she wouldn't know what to do with herself. He'd be able to do that for her, someday.

"Okay, so..." Paige began, looking like she wasn't quiet sure how to, "it's not quite like a story that my other fantasy was, I guess, so it's harder to explain." She took a really deep breath and glanced up at him for a moment, before moving her gaze back down to her hand. "First, I guess I kinda have to admit something. One – and only one of many – of the reasons why I first started to like you was that... I've always looked at you as sort of a... bad-boy." She blushed, and John couldn't help grinning at her word choice. And, of course, at her flushed cheeks. She cleared her throat. "And, um... I don't know, the whole bad-boy appeal kind of turns me on a little. Not in the mean way, I know you're not a jerk, but..." She paused to shake her head slightly. "I... I've had this thing in my head, sometimes..." Her voice dropped lower and sounded more hesitant. "It sounds really stupid and weird." She shook her head again.

"I don't care," John insisted. And he really didn't. He just wanted to hear whatever it was that was in her head. He just wanted to hear her fantasy. "If it sounds stupid and weird, that doesn't matter. I want to hear it."

Paige fidgeted slightly before continuing. "Well... I've kind of had this thought... I guess a fantasy, of you... tying me up." Her entire face became red. "Not... not in a weird way," she quickly added, rambling on though not all of it quite made sense. "I don't want you to hit me, or – wait, that sounds worse – I mean, it's not that bad, I just –"

A small laugh escaped John's lips, and he hoped she wouldn't be upset by it. She fell silent, but instead of getting up to leave like he expected, or telling him she didn't want to play anymore, she had a pained look on her face mixed with an expectant one. Like she was hurt and waiting for his laugh to make sense. Waiting for an explanation. "Hey," he said, saddened by her hurt expression, "I'm not laughing at your fantasy." He stroked her hand with his thumb as he tried to make eye contact, but she only looked down again and continued to play with the block. "You have to trust me that almost every time I laugh when I'm near you, it's because you told a joke or you did something really adorable." The redness had faded, but now a blush crept up again. "You're just adorable when you're rambling and embarrassed." She shifted again slightly at his words. "So, what were you saying?"

Paige looked up at him for another split second. "I've kind of thought about you... tying me up. I don't want you to hurt me, or anything like that... I know it's kind of a thing, for people to do that, but I don't want that... I just... kind of like the idea, I guess, of you being sort of... dominant." Again, she blushed at her word choice. "I've just kinda thought of you sort of... taking me, taking control." She glanced up at him again. "You remember the whole... pushing me against the wall thing?" she asked. He nodded. "Sort of like that, but... in bed. I've thought of you kinda holding my wrists or pinning my arms down, but in a gentle way, if that makes sense. And... I don't know, it just kind of goes with the whole bad-boy thing. Along with... the teasing." Her voice had become almost a whisper.

John held back a grin, wanting to make sure he really understood her. "Let me just make sure I have this straight..." he began, thinking a little about what she'd said. "You like the idea of me tying you up or lightly pinning you down, even just holding your wrists, and being the dominant one? Is that right?" Paige nodded sheepishly and looked up at him for a longer moment, probably scanning his face for a reaction. "And you think I'm some sort of bad-boy?"

"Well, no, but... kinda, yeah. I just..." She shook her head again, trailing off.

"I don't really know exactly what that means for you," he said, "but I guess I can kinda see it." He paused, and she looked like she was waiting expectantly for more of a reaction to the rest of her fantasy. "You really wanna know what I think about this, right?" he asked. She nodded once more. "Listen, no matter what your fantasy was going to be, I was going to try to help fulfill it, someday. I just want you to know that – that I don't necessarily have to be into it myself to do that for you. But, if I'm being honest... that idea turns me on, too, more than a little."

"Really?" she asked, obviously trying to sound more shocked than excited.

John grinned. "Yeah," he said. "I get to make you feel amazing without you being able to protest, and feel good myself out of the deal, while I get to take control? Fuck yeah, that sounds awesome. Plus, I get to fulfill one of your fantasies." He caught her smiling faintly, quickly, in the low light, and her hand stopped playing with the block for a moment. "I'll probably have to look up some stuff, and we'd have to make ground rules if I'm tying you up – but yeah, I'm all for it. But that's all later on."

Paige looked up at him for more than a few moments. "You know this isn't about... what happened, right? I've had this fantasy since... before that. You know that, right?" She looked genuinely worried, scanning his eyes and furrowing her brow slightly.

"Of course," he replied immediately. "Of course. Oh, god, of course, Paige. I know you didn't... want that. That's obvious. And it's different, completely different, I know." And he truly believed that. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been upset.

"Okay," she said, looking down again, "okay, good." She nodded a little to herself.

He squeezed her hand lightly and changed his tone to something softer, more secretive, wanting to change the mood. "I know why I like this idea," he said, pausing to look at her. "But I think I know why you like it, too." She looked up at him curiously for only a moment. "I think you like that you're not the one asking for pleasure. It's like it's forced, as if you have to let me make you feel good, you have to feel good, and of course you don't seem eager. But you're also helpless. You're helpless to the pleasure, and you can't control me making you feel good." He looked at her intently as he said this. "Is that about right?"

"Mostly," she murmured, playing with the block again. "There's something else to it that I can't explain." She looked up again, and he nodded in understanding. "Why..." she began quietly, looking down for a moment, "why do you like it?"

John grinned, excited to answer. "Lots of reasons," he replied. "I get to kiss you as much as and wherever I want, look at you as much as and wherever I want, touch and lick and suck and bite you as much as and wherever I want. I get to watch all of your reactions as I make you feel good – every breath, every sigh, every whimper, every gasp and shiver and moan and mewl and scream and arch of your back and raise of your hips. You'd be forced to just lay back and let me do all of it – to an extent. And I get to tease you as much as I want, and I get to make you come as painfully slowly and as many times as I want, over and over and over, until it's almost torture, or as little as I want, until you're just begging me to let you come, and you won't know what to do with yourself."

And that's how she looked – so flustered and turned on that she didn't know what to do with herself. He watched her shift in her seat at his description, and he knew he was turning her on, which was just what he had been trying to do. "I..." she said, but she seemed to be at a loss for words.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Holy shit holy shit holy shit, I couldn't believe I'd just said that whole thing to him. And then I couldn't believe what he told me. Fuck, his description was detailed, and I reflected the end of it – I was so turned on I didn't know what to do with myself. "I..." I said, trying to speak, but I didn't know what to say. "That was... really in-depth," I said finally, feeling stupid for having that be the only thing I could think of to say.

"I can tell that it turns you on," he almost whispered. "I'm glad it does." I looked at him and saw that he was staring at me, his eyes burning with something I couldn't quite pinpoint. I blushed and looked back down to the block I'd been playing with. I could feel his hand slide up to my wrist, so that his thumb glided over my pulse point, making me shiver. I looked down for a few more moments before his thumb stopped moving, so I took it as an opportunity to speak.

"Does this mean the game is –?" I looked up at him and saw him staring down at his notebook. Did that mean he had more questions? Oh god. But... wait, he'd said that the last one was the last one of the game. I looked closer at him in the dim light. I thought I saw his hand moving, and then I thought I saw the top of a pen, and a bit of panic rose in me. "What are you doing?" I asked almost urgently.

His head snapped up, and his hand stopped moving. My fear worsened. "I was just –"

But I'd already leaned forward and looked at the open page. Even in the low lighting, I could see his extra handwriting on the paper and the pen he'd set on top of it. "What were you writing?" I asked, more panicked.

"I..." he stammered, "It's nothing."

"Bullshit," I said, growing angry and more worried. "If it's nothing, let me read it."

"Paige, I was just trying to – "

"Were you writing what I said?" I asked loudly, angrily, jumping to conclusions and feeling a mix of emotions. I looked desperately down to the notebook, badly wanting to see what he'd written. Then I looked back up to him for an answer.

"Look, it's not that bad, I was just – "

I could tell what the answer was from those words. "I can't believe you!' I yelled, my eyes growing hot as they filled with tears. I stood and ripped one of the blankets off the fort so I could exit, causing half of it to collapse when I went out.

"Wait, Paige – " he said, scrambling to get out of the other half of the blankets. He escaped and flicked on the lights, turning back to look at me. I blinked to adjust my eyes, making tears roll down my cheeks.

"No!" I yelled. "I opened myself up to you, and you... you... betrayed my trust. You took advantage of me, when I was vulnerable and nervous, and for what? So you can look at what I said later for your own amusement? For your own sick pleasure?" I paused to wipe my eyes and cheeks, lowering my voice back to a normal volume. "I was scared, and I was mortified, and I was nervous, and I still opened up to you, because I thought you would be the only one I could do that with." My voice was like my glare at him, as sharp as a dagger. "I told you things I've never told anyone, things I'd never tell another soul, and you violated that, you violated my privacy and my trust, and I just..." I swallowed, my throat feeling like it was tied in a knot. "I can't believe you."

I tried to walk past him to the door, ignoring his pained expression, but he grabbed onto my arm. "Paige, please," he begged, but I yanked my arm away.

"No, you don't get to do that," I snapped. "Not after this." His face fell, and his arm dropped back down to his side. I tried not to let it happen, but my heart felt heavy for him anyways.

I left quickly, hiding my own sadness as I wiped more tears away, and went across the hall to my room, slamming and locking the door behind me.

...

**[A/N: Ooohh, another fight. Anyways, I hope that Paige's fantasy isn't too weird sounding to you guys. Just understand that a fantasy like that is actually quite common, and considering the words "wildest fantasy," it could have been a lot worse, just saying. Let me know what you think by REVIEWING! As always, thanks for reading!]**


	21. Chapter 21-When It's Storming

**[A/N: Enjoy!]**

...

(John's perspective)

How the hell had he fucked up this badly?

Jesus, it only took her seeing the pen for it all to go to shit. He hadn't meant for her to see it yet. He wanted to approach her differently, to ask her if it was okay, tell her his reasons, and offer to scratch it out if she objected. But instead she saw it first, and came to her own conclusion, which was right, and of course she became upset. Of course she couldn't believe him. Of course she yelled, of course she wouldn't let him speak, and of course she left angrily. And of course, he caught the tears on her cheeks that she tried to hide from him.

John's heart was so heavy he thought it'd drop right out of him. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He knew he couldn't ask her before the game, or she'd never go for it or even answer any questions, so he was going to ask her after. He wished she would know that. He wished he could explain that. He wished he could explain everything.

He just wanted to remember it, not for his amusement, not for his pleasure, but for her. So that he could remember every single thing she liked, every single fantasy, every single wish and want and longing. He wanted to remember what turned her on, what excited her, what made her happy, and what made her curious. He wanted to remember what she thought about and how it made her react, and he wanted to remember what she thought about the things he said and how that made her react. That's all he wanted. He wished and wished he could tell her that.

He understood why she was upset. She didn't know his reasons, and if he was in her situation and as afraid to open up as her, he would've reacted the same way. Without knowing his motives and without knowing that he was going to ask her permission, of course she'd feel like her trust and privacy were broken and invaded. Now all he wanted was to take those feelings away from her, to explain and make her feel better and have them be able to talk again. He'd even wanted to let her ask the same questions, so she could hear his responses, but he felt like it was all too late now. He wondered if she would ever want to open up with him again.

Angry with himself, John tore down the damned fort, knocked over the stupid fucking Jenga tower, threw a few other random things to the ground, and flopped onto his bed.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I let my anger out through my tears, sobbing and hugging myself on my bed. I felt so exposed, so open, so vulnerable, and so hurt, I didn't know what else to do. My world came crashing down. It was like one of my worst, most hidden fears had become a reality, and now I couldn't stop it.

Suddenly I heard things crashing coming from John's room, and I realized that he must've been throwing things. It stopped abruptly. I could almost feel his anger just from the noise and the following silence. And then I began to worry that it was towards me.

What if he was mad at me for reacting so harshly? What if he was angry because I didn't let him explain? He still had the notebook filled with everything I'd said. What if he told someone what it said? What if he let someone else read it? What if he used it against me?

Part of me recognized how irrational my thinking was. He would never do something like that. But then I realized that I'd thought he'd never do something like writing down my secrets, my personal thoughts, without telling me, and he did that right in front of me. And so the panic rose in me again along with more fear and despair, and I sat up, more tears spilling onto my cheeks.

I had to get that notebook without making him any angrier, or it would be the end of me.

…..

(John's perspective)

The next day, after sleeping sadly and alone, John went down to breakfast to see Paige at the table, and immediately dreaded the next few minutes. She wasn't completely avoiding him like before, so he thought she would be giving him angry glances all morning, which he wouldn't be able to bare. He couldn't stand the thought of her being mad at him anymore, and he wondered how he could get her to be happy with him again.

John sat down next to his mother, Paige sitting across from her. He silently put eggs and a piece of toast on his plate, not looking up. Once he sat, he played with his food for a moment before he dared to look up at her.

She bit a piece of toast and smiled cheerily, staring happily right at him.

What the fuck?

Not knowing what else to do, John smiled at her warily, then went back to staring at his food, taking a bite every once in a while. That was super weird.

When he was halfway finished with his food, Paige was done with hers, and she quickly put her dishes in the sink and made her way upstairs. He left his plate and ran after her. At the top of the stairs, he grabbed her shoulder gently. "Paige?" he asked.

She seemed to take a deep breath and mutter something before turning around and smiling broadly at him. "Hey, John, good morning."

He just stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. "I, uh... are you still upset?" he asked finally.

She sighed. "I was, but I was thinking and I realized how silly I was being. I was overreacting over something stupid. We're good now." She paused to smile at him before looking worried. "Aren't we?"

He thought she was being oddly charming and cheerful for someone who was yelling, crying, and slamming doors the day before. She'd seemed madder than she'd ever been before, and now she was fine, without so much as an explanation or apology from him? Something was up. "Um... yeah, I guess we are if you are," he replied. She nodded and smiled again before turning and going to her room.

What the hell was going on?

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

I'd been so close to getting in his room. I was so close to getting the damned notebook. But he just had to fucking follow me.

I tried to act as friendly as possible, terrified that he would get more upset with me than he already was. I smiled when I could, greeted him, and I even told him that I wasn't upset and had been acting ridiculous in the first place. Of course, in reality, I didn't actually want to do any of those things. But I knew I had to, or he would tell someone something deeply personal and my life would be over.

I'd tried to eat quickly so I could finish before him and sneak into his room, but he ran after me and caught me before I could. Just feeling him touch my shoulder made me want to puke, and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down as I cursed to myself under my breath. I put on my ridiculous happy act and went to my room.

I'd just have to try after school. I'd run as fast as I could home, way ahead of him – he usually hung around with his friends anyways – and then I'd get the fucking thing and burn it. Satisfied with my plan, I grabbed my bag and checked to see if he was in the hall and, finding it empty, I went downstairs, out the door, and off to school.

That day, which, unfortunately, had been my first day back since I took a little break from school, all I could think about was the notebook. I felt paranoid and insane, but I was so afraid. Every time anyone looked at me, I felt like they'd found out something. My worst fear was that Ricky or one of his friends had found something out. But no one did, and Ricky and his assholes never even looked in my direction, which made me curious.

Finally, I rushed home, and I made it there at least ten minutes before John usually did.

My paranoia was finally going to end.

…..

(John's perspective)

After school, John saw the stormy gray sky and decided to go on without his friends so he wouldn't have to walk home in the rain. He made it home just when it started to drizzle and ran inside before he could get wet. Paige's weird behavior was still on his mind.

He made his way up the stairs and peeked inside her room, finding it empty. He relaxed slightly, not ready to deal with her out of place happiness.

When he opened his door, he jumped, seeing Paige rummaging through his desk drawer. Other things of his were strewn in different places on the floor. Not enough for it to be insane, but enough to frustrate and confuse him to no end. "Alright," he practically yelled, finished with her acting so oddly, "what the hell are you doing now?" She turned and stood, and then one of the most frightened looks he'd ever seen on her face appeared. His mild anger disappeared at the sight of her eyes. She looked like a deer in the headlights, and she froze just the same. "Paige?"

"Please don't be mad," her voice croaked as she dropped an old sketchbook of his.

Exasperated, John couldn't help sounding terse. "What the fuck is going on?" he asked, and he hadn't meant it to be an angry question, but she reacted as if it was, now trembling in front of him.

"I was just looking for the notebook," she squeaked quickly. "I... wanted to change one of my answers for you." He could tell she was lying from the moment she paused, simply from her expression. "Please don't be mad, please. I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry."

He didn't even know where to start. He thought about what she'd said, what she'd lied about, and came to his own conclusion. "You just want to get rid of the fucking answers, don't you?" he asked, frustrated with how she was going about it. She could have just asked him. He thought she'd know better than to think he wouldn't just give her the damn notebook.

His frustration once again melted away when he saw her face. She was trembling even more now, her arms pulled close to her so that she looked smaller, and he could see her lip begin to wobble slightly. Suddenly she burst into tears. He could hear her sobs and see her tears and all he wanted to do was hold her. "Please don't show anybody," she said, her voice cracking. "Please. I know you're angry because I yelled at you and didn't let you talk, and I'm so sorry, and I'm sorry for going through your things. I just didn't want anyone to see. Please don't let anyone see." Sobs filled her again, and she covered her face with her hands, shaking and gasping and sniffling.

Baffled, John paused, not knowing what to say. He heard a roll of thunder and the patter of rain on the roof. He took a deep breath. "Do you wanna know why I wrote down everything you said?" he asked. Paige sniffed and looked like she was trying to calm herself, breathing unevenly and still shaking, as she looked at John fearfully. She must've been afraid of the answer, and she didn't reply. "Jesus," he muttered to himself, moving over to her. He grabbed her by the arm and moved her to the window, and she went willingly and silently, still trembling. "This is why." She looked confused, and he gestured to outside. "You like it when it's storming outside," he said, "because you can say things that you can't when it's not, and it sets a quiet, romantic mood, and you can cuddle with someone and pretend you're scared, but you're not, and then you can listen to the thunder together." She looked stunned, but still slightly confused, and she wouldn't stop shaking.

John turned around and grabbed a blanket off of his bed. He went up to Paige, who still looked slightly confused and whose cheeks were still shiny with tears, and wrapped her up in it like she was a burrito. Her arms were held tightly against her chest inside the blanket because of the way they had been raised, and once it went around her two or three times, she stood there and looked even more stunned. Silently, he scooped her up the same way he always did, went over to his bed, and sat with his back to the headboard. He carefully sat her in his lap, her legs laying horizontally across his thighs. He could feel her stiffen through the trembling, and she had to turn her head to look at him. "I..." she began, but she trailed off, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"Shh," he said, trying to soothe her as he wrapped an arm around her blanket-covered back, pulling her side into him. She leaned her head back, looking at him in shock.

"But, I –" she protested.

"Shh, just listen to the thunder," he whispered, knowing it would calm her down. They sat silently and he watched her eyes bounce around the room as she listened. For a few seconds they could only hear the calming rain, but then they heard another roll of thunder. At this, John could feel her relax, her body becoming loose as she trembled less. He thought for a moment about how, when she cried, she really cried, and it affected her whole body for full minutes after wards.

"I'm scared," she whispered, and he thought she was pretending like in her description.

"But not really," he whispered back, "right?"

"Yes, really," she mumbled.

John scanned her face as she stared into the distance as if he could find the reason there. "Of what?" he asked quietly. "The storm?"

"No," she replied meekly, her voice and eyes distant, "of myself."

He felt a pang in his chest. "Why?"

"I'm scared that I'd do something like this," she replied, still mumbling slightly, pausing every once in a while to take in a somewhat shaky breath. "That I'd assume you were doing something to be anything but kind." She shook her head, keeping her gaze low and towards nothing in particular. "I heard you throwing things, and I thought you were mad at me, and I thought that you'd show or tell someone what you wrote to get back at me. I figured, if you would write it in the first place, why wouldn't you show someone? So I tried to keep you from being mad so you wouldn't show anybody long enough for me to get the notebook. That's why I was in here. I was so scared when you caught me, so terrified that you'd show someone, that I lied." Tears filled her eyes and she began to tremble again.

"Now I know you really should be mad at me," she continued. "I didn't trust you, and I wouldn't listen to you, and I said and did awful things, and _I_ invaded _your_ privacy, and I'm sorry, John, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I didn't remember you would never do something so mean." She was shaking again, and she shut her eyes tight as more sobs escaped her and tears fell into her lap. Her arms started to move like they were going to get out of the blanket, and he figured she wanted to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

He gently placed his hand over the spot where her arms were, stopping her. He gave her a look that said, _Let me_. His hand moved up and brushed the tears off with his thumb, stopping to slowly and lovingly stroke her cheek. After a moment, he wrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her close, and her body released all stiffness and collapsed against him, still tightly wound in the blanket. Her head fell to his shoulder, and her face became buried in the crook of his neck, making it slightly wet with tears. "I was just so scared," she kept muttering, along with, "I'm sorry."

John hugged her even closer and stroked her back soothingly. "I'm sorry," he said, which quieted her. "I should have asked you first. I just thought you wouldn't want to, so I was going to explain and ask you after wards and get rid of it if you still didn't like it. You weren't supposed to see it so soon. But it was all my fault. I did invade your privacy and break your trust, and I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I threw things and made you think I was mad at you, and I'm sorry I came in now and yelled at you and made it worse. I was just frustrated with myself and the situation, not you. And I'm sorry you felt so scared and sad and I'm sorry that you felt like you needed to do all of this just to get rid of what I wrote." He paused. "I think I'm gonna burn those pages tomorrow."

Paige sniffled. "No," she protested quietly. "You wrote them down for a reason, and now I know it's a sweet one."

"Okay," John said. He still felt her shake against him, and he worried that there was something wrong with her. "You're still trembling," he told her, his voice softer than the rain.

"I'm sorry," she said, making him shake his head.

"Don't be," he said, "I'm just worried about you."

"I just..." she said, taking in a shaky breath. "I was really scared," her voice squeaked, "I was just so scared. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable. I've never told anyone anything that personal. I was just so scared someone else would find out. It's like..." she paused and seemed to be thinking. "It's like when you almost fall off somewhere high up and you're so rattled, even though you know you're fine, that you still feel scared."

"I know," he said soothingly. He rested his forehead on top of her hair, taking in a deep breath and smelling her clean and calming scent. It was funny how, now, of all times, she smelled like the rain. He kissed her forehead lovingly, then her temple, and then he went to whisper in her ear. "I remember you saying that you liked it when I whispered romantic things to you." He put his lips on the side of her face and stroked her back again. She nuzzled into him, curling her legs up so that her heels pressed against his thigh. She was now a blanket-ball in his lap, her head still resting on his shoulder. She nuzzled into him again, and he took it as a sign that she wanted him to hold her closer. He did, gladly, and kissed the top of her head again, once more taking in her scent. "Do you want me to, to calm you down?" he whispered into her hair.

"Yes," Paige whispered even quieter than him, "please."

John sighed happily and felt her move with him, moving the hand stroking her back to her hair, making her nuzzle her face into his neck. He smiled, loving every moment of this. He understood now why she liked the storms. "I love you more than the rain and the thunder," he whispered, "more than the stars and the sun, more than the night sky and the sunrise and the sunset. And I love how brave you are, and strong you are, and beautiful you are, and I love your shyness and bashfulness, and your honesty and kindness, and your smarts and humor. And I love your bubbly laugh, and your blushing cheeks, and your adorable nose, and your shimmering eyes, and your dewy lips, and your glowing skin. And I love how quiet but loud you are, and how silly but serious you are, and how calm but excited you are. And I love how much you love me..."

He continued to whisper to her, into her soft hair as he ran his fingers through it, while she nuzzled into him and sighed contentedly every once in a while. He felt the quiet, romantic mood that Paige had described. He wished it could be this way forever, but eventually the thunder, then the rain, and then the dark clouds all went away. Paige had fallen asleep in his lap, and soon the calmness pulled him in with her.

Around an hour or two later, John felt something squirming in his lap. Then something warm started gently nudging his neck. Confused, he opened his eyes and saw Paige looking up at him, and then he remembered and realized what she'd been doing. He forgot that she was barely able to use her arms, so she'd been squirming against him and poking his neck with her head and face. He smiled. "Sorry," she said, blushing slightly, "I tried to say your name but you wouldn't wake up and I didn't want to yell."

"That's alright," he said, still grinning at her. She was so damn cute.

"Can I get up now?" she asked sweetly, and then she demonstrated her inability by wriggling back and forth again slightly. "I wanna see if there's a rainbow."

"Sure." John scooped her up, making her smile, too, and plopped her down on her feet, unwrapping the blanket from around her. He tossed it on the bed as she walked over to the window, and he walked over to see with her. He watched as her eyes scanned the sky outside.

"There," she said excitedly, tapping on the window and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was just like how she was in the zoo, so excited and endearing. "Do you see it? Isn't it beautiful?"

"Gorgeous," he breathed, looking at the wonderful sight. He turned and saw another. "Just like you."

She looked at him at this, and he caught a blush on her cheeks. Then she rolled her eyes, which he could tell was because she was hiding it, and said, "Could you get any cheesier?" John grinned and watched her turn back to the window for a moment, before she looked back towards him. "I'd rather look at you than any rainbow," she said, keeping her gaze on him.

"Could _you_ get any cheesier?" he teased, smiling and taking her hands.

"I don't think so," she responded, smiling back.

God, he couldn't get happier when he was with her. But he still felt slightly guilty for writing her secrets down. Then, as he stared out the window with her, her hands in his, he thought of something to make it up to her.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

He was so loving. I couldn't ask for anyone better.

I'd done so many awful things, and he'd only done one semi-awful thing with the best intentions, but he still cared for me and made me feel better when I cried. And boy, did I cry. That was one thing that kind of embarrassed me: while most people would just cry or sob, I would cry, sob, shudder, shake, tremble, stammer, and gasp while John held me close for longer than anyone else would need to. But he never complained, and some part of me felt like he was actually more than okay with it.

The way he made me feel better, the way he showed me the little details he'd remembered just by writing it down, made my heart flutter. I wanted to kiss and hug him right then and there, but instead I'd felt so guilty and afraid that I couldn't stop fucking shaking. And he just wrapped me in a blanket and put me in his lap and soothed me and whispered the most loving things to me. I got butterflies in my stomach with every word, every time he held me closer, every time he stroked my back, every time he kissed my head gently and lovingly.

Then we both fell asleep, and I couldn't wake him up without wiggling around. It felt a little embarrassing, doing that on his lap, and when I'd felt better, simply being on his lap at all. But I was in a thick blanket and I wasn't really sitting on his lap, so that made me feel less awkward. Finally, he woke up, and then we stood and watched the rainbow, saying cheesy things to each other as he held my hands. I was so happy, standing there next to him, watching something so beautiful.

We went downstairs for dinner, and, probably noticing that the table wasn't so tense, Sarah looked relieved that she didn't have to talk to us about anything.

Afterwards, when John said he needed to go to his room to do homework, I went to mine to read. I was there for around twenty minutes before I saw something slide underneath my door.

I stood and grabbed the folded piece of paper, knowing immediately it was from John. And when I unfolded it and started reading, I realized exactly what it was.

I walked over to his room and saw him sitting on his bed, doodling. He saw me come in and put down his notebook. "Hey," he said.

"You cheater," I accused jokingly, holding up the piece of paper. "Why do I have to tell you every embarrassing answer to your questions, while you held my hand and stared at me, but you just get to write them down and slip it under my door without even speaking a word?"

"Because," he said, grinning a little, "I wanted to hear you say them. I wanted to watch you as you said them. And it was good for you, to help get you out of your comfort zone."

"That's not very fair," I said teasingly. "What if I wanted to hear and watch you say them? Am I just not allowed because what, you're already in your comfort zone?" I grinned at him a little, not seriously upset but still feeling unjustified. I kinda wanted him to know what it felt like.

"Oh, so you want to hear me say them?" he said, a mischievous smile on his lips. I became slightly nervous, but somehow excited, as he slowly stood and took my hand. "If you say so," he continued, gently pulling me towards him as he sat back down, "but be warned, they get pretty dirty." He smirked, and before I knew what was happening his gentle pulling on my hand turned into his other arm around my waist, and the arm around my waist turned into him pulling me into his lap.

I felt my face get hot as I realized two things. One, this was the second time today that he'd put me in his lap, and this time there weren't layers of blanket between us. Two, I'd put myself in this situation. Somehow, because this just had to be me, he was going to turn this around so that, even though it was his personal thoughts being spoken, it would still embarrass me. Probably because it would turn me on. "Oh, uh..." I said, uncomfortable already, "never mind, that's okay. I'll just go read them in my room." But instead of trying to leave, I just stared at him, waiting for him to accept it. I knew he wouldn't.

Instead, he said, "Don't be ridiculous," mocking my oddly formal decline. He pulled me closer, his arm still around my waist, the same playful smile on his face. "It's no problem at all. Of course, if you don't want me to read them..." he gently took the paper out of my hands, looking into my eyes, "I'll just take the paper back. But if you do, I'll gladly tell you about them. In detail." He continued to gaze into my eyes, and I felt so excited for him to read them but nervous to let him at the same time. I knew he was saying these things because he knew they would get to me. I wondered just how detailed "in detail" meant. "So," he continued, "which do you want?"

I blushed hard and involuntarily squirmed a little, making him smile broadly. "You, uh..." I stammered, feeling embarrassed to admit it, "you can read them... if that's what you want."

He tilted his head to the side, as if he knew the trick I was pulling. Trying to make it seem like I didn't actually want it, like it was him that asked for it. I could tell that he recognized it before it even left my lips. "I know that's what I want," he said, his eyes not leaving mine, "but I was asking if that was what you wanted." He squeezed my hand with the one that wasn't around me. "Is it?"

I waited for a moment before finally answering."Yes," I murmured, looking down at our hands.

"Good," he said, sounding partly excited and partly calm and collected, but all blended together. He grinned, and I looked up to see it along with the glint in his eyes that immediately told me how much fun he knew he was going to have.

...

**[A/N: No, Paige does not have some sort of disease/disorder. Some people cry that intensely, plus, after going through something traumatic, people can get kinda shaky. Anyways, I hope you liked the chapter! REVIEW, thanks for reading, and more to come!]**


	22. Chapter 22-Shrugging

**[A/N: Once again, so so sorry for the wait! I've been super busy and experiencing a bit of writer's block, which doesn't mix well as far as trying to get new chapters out goes.**

** Also, viewer's discretion advised again, sorry. :p ]**

…..

(John's perspective)

He was going to have so much fun with this. God, he'd loved talking in such a dirty way to her when they were talking about her fantasies, but it was harder to turn around that way. His fantasies were one thing that didn't particularly embarrass him, so he was going to have an easier time turning her on with them.

He'd written and slipped the paper under her door for a different reason, though. He wanted her to feel absolutely safe, regardless of what he did or didn't do with his paper. So he evened the playing field, so to speak, by giving her a paper filled with his own private and intimate thoughts that almost totally mimicked hers. Plus, she'd get to look at it whenever she wanted. He thought she'd like not having to hear him say it out loud and getting to read them to herself privately, but she just had to come in and tease him about it. So he turned it around, knowing that the opposite was probably what she really wanted.

But, damn, was it difficult to get her to admit it. It was true that it was something kind of big, admitting her wanting to have him read his dirty thoughts to her, but she did it, even if she murmured it. She looked embarrassed, but in the cute, shy way she always looked, and he knew that her squirming was because of excitement. And her excitement increased his already.

The fact that she was willingly sitting in his lap, with just their clothes between them, was definitely a bonus. When he'd first done it it was kind of spontaneous, just to get her very close to him and in a warm and comfortable spot, but the second time he thought about more, so that she would feel close but even more excited.

And right now, as he held the paper with the hand that wasn't around her, John could see Paige's eyes dance with that excitement. The same excitement that she would never point out or admit. The same excitement which he was going to point out and have fun with in a few minutes.

"I'm just going to read them in order, okay?" he said, glancing down at the paper. She nodded. "Okay... well, I liked hearing you talk about rainy days, and earlier was definitely romantic and relaxing, but I think I like cool summer nights better. It's a different kind of quiet, and it's still peaceful, but it's slightly warm and breezy and more... still." John looked up at her again, and she was looking at him intently and shortly nodding her head, hanging on to each word. He smiled slightly to himself, looking back down to the paper. "I loved it when you were on top of me, straddling me, and I loved it when you talked about really dirty things. I'd love it if you did that more often." He already saw a small blush on her cheeks, and they'd barely started.

"I like it when you tell me romantic and dirty things, but you don't have to whisper them if you don't want to. And I'm not exactly enthusiastic about you teasing me when we kiss, but if you want to do that, feel free, I guess." He looked down at the paper again. "You already know that I like it when you're on top of me. And, my three favorite places to be touched are..." he paused in thought. "My back, because I like it when you move your hands around under my shirt and pull me closer, my chest, because your hands feel warm and I think it makes you excited a lot," the last part made her blush, "and I think you know the last place and why, but you haven't touched it yet." He gave her a look, and the blush deepened as she squirmed again. He heard her clear her throat.

"What, um..." she said, stumbling over her words to get it out, "what... what would you want to call that?"

He couldn't help smirking, leaning in close to her ear. "What do you want me to call it?" he whispered.

"I don't know," she replied, and she sounded honest. "I... I know I called it an erection a while ago, but that just sounds... weird. I feel like everything sounds weird or..."

"Or what?" he said, picking up her loss of words.

"Or... difficult to say, because they're... I don't know, kinda vulgar." She paused, clearing her throat unnecessarily again. "So... what would you call it?" He noticed her voice drop to almost a whisper.

He dropped his voice to the same soft level as hers. "How about... cock?" he whispered, scanning her face for a reaction. He didn't think it was that bad, but it was one of the more vulgar terms for something like that that they'd used.

Her face was redder, and she broke eye contact with him. "Sure," she mumbled. He didn't want to push it yet, so he stopped the topic there.

"Right now," he said, raising his voice a little to signal the change of subject, "I'm wearing red and black boxers." Her eyes went back to his in interest, but then she must have thought about what he said, because they dropped back down again. He looked at the paper and continued. "I know you seemed to like the idea of me calling you 'beautiful' or 'love' in bed, though I know you won't admit it, but I don't think I want you to call me anything." He lowered his voice, ready to push it a little. "But I'd love to hear you say my name." He looked at her and caught her blush, but she wouldn't look up. "I'd love to hear you moan it. Scream it, even." Her blush deepened. That must've been twice in five minutes. He grinned as she shifted slightly.

He continued. "I've definitely thought about you wearing less when we sleep," he admitted, looking down her body as she glanced up at him, making sure she was watching when he did. "I've thought about you in just your underwear and a t-shirt. And I've thought about you wearing just underwear. And I've thought about you wearing that while I wore just boxers. And of course I've thought about us not wearing anything." He paused, watching her blush hard and catching a small smile on her lips. "If we weren't waiting until we had sex," he said, "I'd probably go to sleep shirtless now, if I'm being honest." He watched her reaction, but there was no change. "Would you want that?"

She mumbled, not looking up, "I... I think I'd be okay with that... before we have sex." She played with her fingers. He smiled.

"I'm taking that as a yes, for whenever you're ready. Tonight, even, if you want." He left her to that thought as he glanced back to the paper. "I wish your tongue would go..." he said, pretending to think, "at the place we talked about earlier. On my cock." He watched her face as he was so blunt, and her eyes widened just a little before quickly returning to normal.

"I've definitely thought about sex," he said, lightly joking though his answer was true. "I've wondered what it would feel like to come with you. I've wondered what you would look like under your clothes, though I know beautiful. I've wondered what you would sound like when you came, and what faces you would make, and how you would move. And I've fantasized about our first time a lot."

His pause quite obviously made her curious, but he could tell that she was trying to hide it. "What..." she said, and then her voice lowered when she must've realized how excited it sounded, "what is it? Your fantasy, I mean."

He smiled faintly at her, looking at her adorably curious eyes looking back at him. "I imagine us feeling like magnets, just pulled together, because we'd both know it's the perfect moment. And I'd kiss you slowly but passionately, and your hands would be on my chest. And then I'd put my hands on your waist and pull you closer. I'd kiss down your neck, and then I'd start to pull your shirt up, very slowly, but this time you wouldn't be bothered by it. You'd be ready for me to look at you. And then I'd pull away to take it off, and I'd take in the sight of you. Then you'd do the same with me.

"We'd start touching each other and kissing each other and then I'd move my hands up your back to the back of your bra. And I'd take it off slowly and look at you, and you'd be breathtaking. Then I'd touch you again, and your breasts would fit perfectly in my hands, and then we'd lean back on the bed. And you'd unbutton my jeans, and by then, I'd be hard, and you'd see it against my boxers when you'd pull my jeans off. Then I'd unbutton your jeans and see your beautiful legs and your underwear against your skin, and we'd kiss again.

"Then I'd move one of my hands down until it was under your underwear, and I'd touch you until you'd start moaning, and you'd take off my boxers and see me, and touch me a little. I'd take off your underwear and look at you, and then I'd touch you even more. We'd touch each other for a little while before I'd enter you. And I'd move slowly at first, but soon I'd speed up, and I'd play with your clit, until we'd both finally come, and I'd moan your name and you'd moan mine. And then it would be like you said, where we'd be so tired and happy that we'd cuddle and get close and fall asleep."

John looked at Paige's face when he finished, snapping out of his own daze. It was slightly flushed, and then she shifted in his lap. He could feel her legs pressing together, but he decided not to comment. Soon, she squeezed his hand lightly and spoke. "I like hearing your fantasies, too. That was... beautiful, and..." then she trailed off.

"And what?" he said, smiling slightly.

"Kinda hot," she said, mumbling.

"Did it turn you on?" he asked. She nodded sheepishly and kept her eyes low. He smiled at her, looking down to the paper for the next answer. "I've thought, sometimes, about us having sex somewhere kind of randomly. Like, up against the wall, or over a table. And I've thought about us having sex under the stars, on a blanket, when it's kind of warm and breezy outside. I like the idea of us being spontaneous, or kind of against the rules, or just somewhere different and romantic." He glanced at the paper.

"I've thought about you stripping for me," he said, "as I've said before. I haven't really thought about doing that myself, because it seems a little silly that way, to me. I wouldn't be against it, I guess, if you really wanted it, but... anyways, I've thought about you. Putting on music, swaying your hips, teasing me with your body as you took off your clothes. Maybe you'd dance on my lap a little. God, I wouldn't be able to resist you." Again, at this, she blushed hard, and he made sure she was looking again as his eyes traveled down her body. She looked away quickly, but he could see the tiny smile on her lips. She must've been flattered, which he thought was adorable.

"I'd like to try..." he continued, pausing to look at his answer, "having sex standing up, with you against the wall, your legs wrapped around me. And I'd like to try you riding me, while I sat up against the headboard. I thought about that when you said you'd like to try being on top. Just the thought of your hands on my chest, my hands on your hips, your head thrown back, is hot as hell." He watched her shift again.

"I've thought about us using our hands to make each other come," he said, "and I've thought about us using our mouths, too. I like the idea of me sitting on the edge of the bed, with you kneeling in front of me, or of you lying back, while I wrapped my arms around your thighs and made you come with just my tongue. But maybe I'd use my fingers, too." He added detail to the last part, knowing that that was something that she'd admitted went through her mind a lot. It was what she thought about and was apparently the only porn she watched, so it must be an easy way to turn her on. And like he guessed, she squirmed, her cheeks red.

He went on. "I've definitely thought about using toys on you," he said, picturing it for a moment. "I've thought of something as simple as a blindfold up to a vibrator, and the thought of watching you breathe heavily because of it turns me on more than a little." With every word, he tried to turn her on more, trying to make his voice and his words sound smooth. Every word was like a step towards her not knowing what to do with herself, sitting in his lap.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

I couldn't believe any of this. For one, he was being so damn blunt and open, with such ease. Two, it was like he was saying every word for the specific purpose of turning me on. Three, it was working, a lot. I just wanted to squeeze my legs together, or even touch myself for relief, but I was sitting on his lap, so I only did a little of the former when I thought he wasn't paying attention. Other than that, I kept squirming and blushing and playing with my fingers, barely looking at him, because he was so... intense, so in detail. And I knew he was just loving it. I kind of was, too, though I wouldn't admit it.

"I've thought about us having rough sex, and I've thought about doing the whole pushing-you-against-the-wall thing," he said after looking at the paper again. "And I've already told you that I touch myself, about as much as you, and I've watched porn. Usually at the same time. I've watched just kinda normal ones, but I've also watched ones where the girl goes down on the guy, and the other way around. There was one that I think you'd like a lot that I watched, where the girl's tied down and the guy goes down on her until she comes, and then he uses a vibrator on her until she comes again." He said all of that with such a lack of hesitance, so quickly and easily and casually, that I was a little stunned. I was also stunned with how much the last of it turned me on, considering it wasn't said in the same way that he had been saying everything else. "I'll have to try that with you, or at least watch the video with you, someday."

He smiled lightly, and I knew that the corners of my lips turned up at the least, besides my blushing and squirming. The thought was so damn hot, I tried not to think about it with him looking so intently at me. "I've already told you that I'd like to watch porn with you, so now this just leaves my wildest fantasy, I guess." He glanced down at the paper. "Are you ready?"

I took a deep breath involuntarily. "Yes," I whispered as a smile spread on his face.

…..

(John's perspective)

John smiled. She'd taken everything well so far, despite how blunt and vulgar he'd been.

As he sat there, ready to tell Paige his fantasy, he wondered about how he could make it even more of a turn-on for her. He glanced at the paper.

"I actually have a few fantasies," he began, thinking. "They're kind of mixed together. And when I heard about your fantasy, I thought about it for a while and realized that it was really one of my fantasies, too. So, here we go." He paused to look at her, and she was looking back at him expectantly. "Sometimes," he said, leaning in just a little, just enough for her to barely notice, "I think about tying you up. I think about surprising you and, when you don't expect it, after I've already got your clothes off, taking some ribbon or rope or a belt or anything I can find, and tying your hands to my headboard. And I think about blindfolding you, so you won't know what I'll do. And you'll be so excited, I'll be able to just tell, but you won't admit it. And then I'd get out some food."

At this, Paige's head tilted to the side. Her eyebrow raised slightly. "Huh?" she said.

"Just wait," he said, smiling at her confusion. He leaned in a little more. "I'd get out something fun, like... I don't know, whipped cream." Her eyebrow lowered, and she looked like she had a suspicion of where he was going. He leaned in a bit more, his face closer to hers. He could feel her breath against his mouth. "I'd show you and start by putting a little on your neck," he said. "Then I'd lick it up. Just to demonstrate. Then, to show you what I'd do with it," he pulled her a little closer, his voice lowering, "I'd make a trail starting from your neck, down to your collarbone, to your breasts, then all the way down your stomach..."

He started to stroke her side with the hand that was around her waist, and he could feel her stomach muscles tense. He spoke even softer. "I'd slowly start at your neck, licking up just a little, making sure you were clean in that spot. Then I'd move just a little bit lower, to the bottom of your neck, and do the same thing." The hand that had been in hers gently slipped away and landed on her knee. Her hand moved tentatively to his arm, like she didn't know if she should, and he thought he caught her gently biting her lip. "I'd probably spend a little extra time there, and you'd be breathing so heavily, I'd be able to see your chest rise and fall."

He was practically lifting her by pulling her so close, and soon he was moving her so that she was sitting back on the bed as he leaned over her. "I'd eventually make it down to your collarbone, and I'd probably suck and bite it a little, because I know that's something you like," and he leaned his face so close to hers that their lips brushed together. "And then I'd move down," he said, and he kissed her, and tried to steal all of the anticipation from her lips.

His lips pulled away so he could continue. "And I'd move down," he repeated, smiling a little, "until I'd start licking around your breasts. And I'd kiss them, and bite them a little, before I'd lick off the cream around your nipple. And to make sure it was all gone, I'd suck your nipple into my mouth." He leaned over and kissed her neck, and he heard her sigh softly. "Then I'd move down even lower, and I'd start licking down your stomach, very slowly, and you'd start to arch your back. And then, just when you'd think I'd get to the one place you really want me to..."

He paused to kiss her neck a couple more times, and he noticed her breathing get shallower."I'd move down to your thighs and add more cream." He smirked at her and kissed behind her ear. "Then I'd lick my way back up slowly, before finally reaching your... center." He decided to call it that, figuring she wouldn't like the other word just yet. He would have said something similar to the word they'd used earlier but couldn't think of one, so he went with the non-vulgar option. But he still made a mental note to say the vulgar word for her later.

"And I'd lick once," John continued, "or twice, just enough to get all the cream off, and you'd be going crazy." He kissed further down her neck, almost painfully slowly, before continuing. "You'd be almost begging me to just lick you a little harder, to just make you come, and right when you'd think I would, I'd pull away, and I'd untie your hands." He kept kissing her for a few more moments, almost feeling her curiosity radiating off of her.

"I'd kiss you for a while, just to calm you down," he continued, kissing her fully on the lips for a bit. "Or maybe to do just the opposite," he added, hearing her shallow breathing, smirking. She blushed, but he went on. "Then I would, after waiting just a little while longer, just to mess with you..." and he pulled her up higher onto the bed a little, hovering over her, "finally enter you, really slowly, and keep going until we both came."

He paused to kiss her neck. "I'd probably touch you all over while we kept going, though," he added, whispering into her ear as he glided his fingers up her side to her breast, gently beginning to touch it. He looked at her to make sure she was okay, but her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow. They opened, probably because of the lack of motion of his hand. He smirked once again. "You alright there, or was my fantasy too much for you?" he asked teasingly.

"I..." she said, snapping out of it, "I'm fine." Then she smiled faintly, glancing down to his lips. He only smiled in reply, leaning down to kiss her more.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Wow, he was good at talking in such a... dirty way. And he'd been so distracting, so... seductive, I guess, that I barely noticed he'd been doing anything until he was suddenly on top of me. I had eventually closed my eyes, so wrapped up in his description and kisses, that it took him stopping for me to snap out of it. He, of course, teased me at that moment, before kissing me more. And we continued to kiss that way, soon making out the way we usually did, until he was the one who decided to stop.

Later, we decided to just watch some TV, because it wasn't really late enough to sleep. I leaned against John, and he had an arm wrapped around me. After a while, his hand began to glide up and down my arm, his fingers dancing over it. "What're you doing?" I asked, sitting up a little.

"What?" he asked, seemingly confused.

"With your hands," I clarified.

He smiled faintly. "I don't know," he said, "I just like touching you. Not like that, not right now anyways," and I laughed silently at his joke, "but just touching you. It's just comforting, I guess." He shrugged, but to me it was more than that.

"That's kinda cute," I said, blushing a little. He smiled at me, and I leaned back into him as he continued to stroke my arm. We watched for a little while longer before we went back to his room.

…..

(John's perspective)

He had no idea she'd like something that was so far in the back of his mind, but if she liked it, he of course would keep doing it. He'd probably keep gliding his hands on her arm anyways, but that part just made it better. He didn't know why he did it, it was just comforting, feeling Paige under his fingers, warm and soft and wonderful and just there. Just feeling that someone, especially someone he loved so much, was there.

When they were back in his room, about to go to sleep, he thought back to something. "Hey," he said to Paige, and her head snapped up from looking down at the covers she'd been pulling back. "Can I take my shirt off?"

She froze. "What?" she asked after a beat.

John shrugged, pretending it was nothing of significance. "That's how I sleep, a lot of times anyways. Besides, you seemed to like the idea earlier." He smirked, walking over to the other side of the bed. "Do you?"

"I..." she said quietly, fidgeting and looking down. "I, um..." She looked uncomfortable enough that John became slightly concerned.

"Do you wanna sit? And say something, maybe?" he joked lightly, sitting up on his side of the bed. She sat next to him and looked at her hands, playing with her fingers.

"I don't want to take mine off," Paige murmured quickly.

John couldn't help laughing slightly. "Why would you?"

She looked up. "If you are, I..." she said.

He looked at her. "Paige, just because I might doesn't mean you have to."

"But..." she protested, though he couldn't understand why, "I... I don't know, it doesn't feel fair."

"Why?" he asked. "It's not something that needs to be equal. I'm just more comfortable with it. You aren't yet, and that's okay. It doesn't matter if I am."

"Yeah, but..." she continued, "I don't know, I feel like I'd..."

He couldn't help smiling to himself a little. "Like you'd what?" he asked.

"Like I'd..." she said, sinking into herself a little, probably from embarrassment. Why was she so damn cute? "Like I'd kinda... gawk at you, but I wouldn't be..." she mumbled, clearing her throat, "in the same boat." She looked over at him.

John smiled. "Well, you can gawk all you want, if that makes you happy," he said. "Though I know it will," he added a little egotistically.

She smiled at his joke, but only slightly. "I don't know..."

"Look," he said seriously, "if it'll make you too uncomfortable, then I won't, and that'll be the end of it. But I have a feeling you still want me to, and I know that I won't care if you gawk or whatever. I also won't care if you don't take your shirt off. I know it's different for you, so it's fine. And when you are in the same boat, I'll just gawk at you then." He joked again, smiling at her. She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, I think it'll be more than okay. It could even be another baby step, if you think about it."

Paige looked up at him a little sheepishly. "Okay," she said finally. John smiled reassuringly and nodded, standing up. She followed, and now the two were standing across from each other, the bed between them. She kept looking down, like she was trying not to watch, but he noticed that her eyes ended up on him anyways. He shrugged his shirt off from the top of the back, tossing it to the side, and then he watched her face intently.

She looked back into his eyes for a moment, but then her eyes went lower, sweeping all over his torso. It was weird, being watched, at least for a moment. He waited for a reaction, but for a while it was just her, well... gawking at him. He couldn't help smiling, getting under the covers.

…..

(Paige's perspective)

Jesus, he was hot.

I'd felt almost too worried to have him do it before, but after he convinced me, and especially because he added the detail about baby steps, I felt okay with it. Well, more okay, at the very least.

Then he got up, and I tried not to watch him in the process, but I couldn't help it. Even the _way_ he took his shirt off was hot – he did it in the way I'd always seen guys do it in movies. Then I couldn't help gawking at him, like I said I would, because he was just so...

Eventually he smiled and got under the covers. I snapped out of it a little, cursing myself for being such an idiot, as I nervously went under the covers. I'd already touched him underneath his shirt before, but I felt nervously excited for the feeling of being close to him that way. Once I was lying down, I felt too nervous to get closer to him. Once again, I didn't want to be eager, and I felt like I might be awkward.

"Paige?" John asked, and I looked at him.

"Yeah?" I asked nervously.

Wordlessly in reply, he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer. I still felt nervous, and while I was close, close enough to feel his warm skin on my arm, I didn't dare touch him. I felt him laugh lightly. Once again silent, he took the wrist of the arm I usually wrapped around him and gently guided it over, wrapping it around his middle. It forced me to turn into him slightly. "You don't have to be afraid," he whispered.

"I know," I whispered back, liking the change in tone. "I just..."

"I know," he repeated quietly, rubbing his thumb on my arm. "Just get close." Tentatively, I nuzzled into him, fully turning and resting my head on his chest. I liked feeling the smoothness of his skin against me, and his scent seemed to be magnified now, along with his warmth.

"This feels nice," I mumbled quietly, my face getting hot. "You feel... I don't know, you just feel good." I felt like I had to add something, so I said, "And you, uh... you looked nice, too." I thought my cheeks couldn't possibly get warmer.

John laughed silently at my remark, and I could feel him shake his head slightly. "I'm glad, it feels nice to me too. You feel... closer, in a way. And thanks." I felt him sigh as his hand still stroked my arm. It moved to my back and then my hair, and I relaxed, nuzzling into him more.

"I love you," I said quietly, feeling calm.

"I love you, too," he replied, and then I fell asleep.

…..

(John's perspective)

It became difficult for him to tell her to just come closer, so he decided to just bring her closer on his own, as much as he comfortably could. He tried to assure her that it was okay, whispering like she liked. And he knew, he knew she just felt so intense about things, and she didn't need to say it. He knew. He told her to get close, and she actually did, nuzzling into him like he wanted her to and like she probably wanted to in the first place.

He could tell she was embarrassed to say it, but he was glad that she told him that it felt nice. That made it worth it to him. And she was so cute, mumbling to him that he felt good and looked nice. He couldn't help laughing and shaking his head at that cuteness, hoping it wouldn't hurt her feelings. He told her how it felt to him, which was that she felt closer, and she did. It made him wonder what it would feel like when neither of them were wearing clothes. Kind of like Paige had mentioned in her fantasy about their first time – maybe it would make them feel infinitely closer, so close that she wouldn't need to be afraid anymore. He hoped it would be that way, and wished for that day to come.

He thanked her for her adorable compliment, eventually playing with her hair. He relaxed and got even closer, which he was happy about. Then she told him she loved him, which he was even happier about. He told her the same, and felt a calmness settle over him.

He thought about the steps he could take to get her closer to being ready, the steps he could take to make it feel less intense for her. This had been a good one, and so had the game. Maybe he could do something similar to one of them, or both. He also thought about some of the things he'd written in his notebook that he could do for her. Soon, the calmness and his thoughts pulled him to sleep with Paige.

The next few days were going to be so much fun.

…..

**[A/N: Don't forget to review! I know, this chapter wasn't all that good, but the next few will be great at the very least, I promise.**

**Also, if you have any ideas for new chapters, please PM me, I'd love to hear them! (In case you can't tell, that writer's block I've been experiencing has _sucked_. I'd love fresh ideas to get rid of it.) :) ]**


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